


Please Come Home to Me

by meholstein



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Peter-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony-centric, Whump, dad-Tony, peter whump, some serious heavy whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meholstein/pseuds/meholstein
Summary: When Peter turns down the offer to be an Avenger, he thinks things will go back to the way they were. But with a billionaire and his security guy now part of his superhero backup, how could it? Especially when that billionaire has no idea how to handle any of this. Slowly, Peter, Tony (and Happy's) lives get tangled together.When the Avengers begin to reunite, well, that throws a wrench into the works.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a draft. A draft of a draft. But I hate the idea that I have anything written and it's not being shared with people - as a reader, I'd rather read a draft than have nothing to read at all. So, enjoy.

**Peter Parker**

After the incident with Vulture, and turning down a spot with the Avengers, things changed.

Peter knew why. He knew on some level that he made Happy and Mr. Stark look like fools. There were dudes out there in Queens running around with alien sueprweapons and when someone warned them about it (another superhero, no less), they totally ignored it.

But on the other hand, Peter understood. He had been annoying Happy with all those texts, and he knew it. Each sent text made him a little sick, both when he sent it and when he received no answer. But he couldn’t just give up. He couldn’t just let his chance to be an _Avenger_ disappear.

After everything that happened, the shoe was on the other foot now. It was Happy who texted him all the time, and Peter who didn’t always respond.

> Happy: How was school today?

Peter had no idea why Happy suddenly cared. Maybe they were trying to keep an eye on him so that next time Peter found alien weaponry in Queens, they could head him off. Maybe they were trying to keep him on the straight and narrow so that he could join the Avengers one day.

That _was_ his plan, after all. ‘ _For a little while_ ,’ he’d said. Just a little while longer.

> Peter: Fine

He meant it, too, every word. He wanted to stay fighting for the little guy, and he couldn’t be fighting for the little guy if he was constantly dealing with a tail from Mr. Stark.

Although he was immensely honored that Mr. Stark cared about him enough to have him tailed.

* * *

After he got the suit back, Peter immediately started tinkering. The full programs had been unlocked, but the security around _Protocol: Baby Monitor_ was so thorough that Peter knew he would never be able to break through.

He debated getting Ned to help. But from what he could tell, all Baby Monitor did was record things - not actually _prevent_ him from doing anything. So, he decided it wasn't worth it.

He made a mental note to never do anything embarrassing while wearing the suit ever again.

That would be hard, though, because he’d taken to wearing the suit all day every day. It took way too long to put on and take off in it’s entirety, and after the incident at homecoming, he wasn't going to be caught unprepared again.

He had Happy take the suit to Mr. Stark, and he added gloves and boots that could be taken off. Somehow he programmed them to automatically adhere to the suit once they’d been put on, so that they couldn’t be taken off unless Peter turned them off. It was amazing.

Peter just thanked god the suit was machine washable.

It was damn convenient to have super technology with him at any time. All he had to do was put on the mask and Karen could tell him anything he wanted.

Peter noticed could totally cheat on his exams by going to the bathroom and putting on the mask and asking for the answers. But he didn't, though; Peter was a good kid.

He walked home, feeling the mask in his pocket. He was good at engineering, but he couldn’t even begin to understand the sort of tech that enabled the eyes to blink, bend, and project clear imagery without compromising his field of view.

“Hey, Parker!”

Flash.

“Walking home from school?” He jeered.

“Yeah, Flash, and _so are you_ since Spider Man crushed your dad’s car.”

Peter didn’t enjoy destroying property, but he wasn’t going to complain about Flash having to walk home instead of having his wealthy father pick him up.

Flash shrugged. “At least I got to see him! But you’re friends with him, _right Parker_?” He broke out laughing.

Peter rolled his eyes. He hadn’t given this up since that party.

Flash took pleasure in bullying him, but this was the year of our lord 2017 and most kids looked on bullying unkindly, which meant Flash was alone. Peter could handle one solitary kid making fun of him.

He knew Flash didn't have a problem with him personally, anyways. Flash was just trying to get him to quit the team so he wouldn't be an alternate anymore. Knowing that it was just high school politics made it almost laughable.

And anyways, he’d dealt with a lot worse than Flash.

“Hey! Flash!” Ned yelled, running up to him. “Knock it off.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?”

Ned walked up next to Peter. “I don’t know why you deal with him,” Ned mumbled.

Peter whispered back. “What am I supposed to do? Drop kick him through a wall?”

“No, I’m just saying, give him the old…” Ned gestured punching, “ _one-two_ during gym.”

“Don’t you think it would be a little suspicious if Peter Parker suddenly became _really_ strong like overnight?”

Ned shrugged. “You could tell him you’ve been, like, training or something. You have been weird in the last few months. People would buy it. And you _have_ looked stronger in gym.”

Peter briefly entertained the idea. It would be nice to have to hide less, if in only one tiny way. It would also nice to see Flash get hit in the face with a kickball.

But it could lead to him being exposed. “Too dangerous.”

Ned rolled his eyes. Over the last few weeks, he’d become less starstruck and more frustrated by Peter’s choices. Ned had made it all too clear he thought Peter should have chosen to become an Avenger.

Flash’s walk home took him in another direction, leaving he and Ned alone.

“So, you gonna patrol today?” Ned asked out loud.

Peter shook his head. “Break day, Aunt May says. Gave me a big lecture about taking breaks, said even cops take days off.”

“What’d you say?”

“That there aren’t any other spider-mans out there to cover my days off. But I agreed to at least stay at home while I listen to the police scanner.” That's all he ever did most days, anyways; hang out on rooftops and listen to the police scanner radio.

He couldn't be friendly neighborhood spider man that way, though. He wouldn't see when little old ladies need help crossing the road, or when kids wandered away from the playground.

One of the rooftops he liked to sit on overlooked a playground. He tried to stay out of sight so he wouldn't become an attraction, but he swore sometimes parents would wave or give him a thumbs up, thanking him for watching over their children.

The thought never failed to make his heart warm.

Ned was speaking. “Well, we can listen to the scanner while we study.”

Peter laughed. “Is ‘study’ code for ‘research spider man and make battle plans’?”

Ned looked guilty.

“Good, because that’s what I was going to do too,” Peter said.

Ned brightened up. “I have to take a look at your suit, I want to figure out a way to patch into it’s communications so I can call…”

Their quest to modify the suit to allow Ned to be the man-in-the-chair carried them through the day, and into the night, when Ned accidentally fell asleep in Peter’s bottom bunk and Peter fell asleep on the top bunk, one foot stuck to the ceiling.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

> Happy Hogan: Want to get food after school?

Peter stared at the text.

This was the first time Happy had asked to see him in person.

Peter was still upset that Happy ignored him and hung up on Ned. And because of it, he ended up on the outside of a plane in the stratosphere, _stealth panels flashing wildly and looking down and seeing Manhattan below him -_

A flash of anxiety gripped his chest. Peter shook his head, and took a deep breath. The point is, he was still upset. He still wanted to join the Avengers eventually and all, but Peter figured _he_ was the one who turned _them_ down, so if he didn’t reach out for a while he’d still be cool with them.

He didn’t expect Happy to put in this much effort. He did say 'a little while,' so Happy knew he was going to come join the Avengers eventually, right?

In any case, food from a restaurant sounded a lot better than whatever Aunt May had in the refrigerator, and he knew he could pick anyplace he wanted curtesy of Stark Industries.

Maybe while they ate, Peter could reassure Happy that he was going to join the Avengers eventually, probably after high school, so Happy could calm down with the recruitment scheme.

> Peter Parker: Sure
> 
> Happy Hogan: I’ll pick you up

* * *

Peter spent the rest of the day feeling awkward. He hadn’t spoken to Happy since the incident with Vulture. He’d shared words with Mr. Stark, of course, but he and Happy just sat silently in the car to and from the compound.

Peter liked Happy, but he got the sense Happy was a man who took pride in his work. And Peter had made him look like a fool.

But Happy didn’t seem mad at him. Happy let him run his mouth, actually, and Peter talked endlessly about his latest science project, the parameters, the rubric. “It’s going to be a piece of cake, actually, all we’re doing is making a battery out of potatoes. It took a lot more than that to invent my webbing -“

At some point he expected Happy to jump in. “And I did it without a real lab, or anything, because it’s not like the school chemistry lab exactly has a lot of adhesives lying around -“

Instead Happy nodded patiently and just let him keep talking. “- and I had to be really careful not to break anything or waste any chemicals because then they would have started investigating me -“

He did that all the way until they settled into their table at the deli. Peter was still talking when Happy interrupted him. “Kid,” Happy said, then cleared his throat. “Peter.”

“Happy?” Peter responded.

Happy sighed, closing his eyes and opening them again. “Listen… I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, about Toomes.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows.

“You can be annoying and text me way too often, but I should have known you wouldn’t have called me on a lark. You said it was something serious and I should have believed you.”

“I don’t think so,” Peter said despite himself. “I’m just some teen - one who can stop a bus with his bare hands, but _just some teen_. I’m probably not the only teen mutant in the _city_ , let alone in the world. So…” Peter mumbled, “I get it.”

Happy frowned. “You are the only teen mutant in this half of the country right now - but that’s not important. The point is, I’m sorry. And the next time you say something’s a big deal, I’ll listen.”

“Is this why you asked for lunch?”

“Yeah. And to offer you support.”

“Support?”

“Because even though you’re not an Avenger, you’re still a… _superhero_ …” he said with some distaste, “and superheroes need support. Turns out constantly taking down criminals is hard work.”

“I already have a guy in the chair. His name’s Ned. You hung up on him.”

Happy grimaced. “I know. And next time I won’t, but that’s not what I mean. I mean _resources_. People you can call, people you can talk to. Allies.”

Peter studied Happy. So, what, next time he’s feeling overwhelmed he should text Happy?

“I’m not expecting anything right now. I just wanted you to know. And I’m going to keep texting you about your life.”

Peter studied him, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Because you can't let a prospective Avengers member get away?" He said humorously.

Happy looked sad for a moment. "No. Because, against my better judgement, I care about you."

The word was out of Peter's mouth before he could stop it. "Why?"

Happy shrugged. "Well, you don't have a dad, and I'm sure your Aunt May is a lovely mom, but no one mom can do it all by herself. Also, you're a teenage mutant, and I'm sure your Aunt May is a lovely mom, but I'm also sure she doesn't have a clue about how to guide a mutant to adulthood."

"Mutate," Per said quietly.

He hated that he was a _mutant._ People used the word mutant in the streets like it was a dirty word, something necessary and yet, undesireable. It reminded him of the way people talked about untouchables in the Indian Caste System.

Happy seemed to understand, and his gaze softened. "That's my point."

Peter kept eating his sandwich. He didn't have anything to say to that.

Happy stared back. “So the only way to get you to stop talking is to start talking about something serious?”

“Yep.” He popped the sandwich in his mouth.

“Tell me about school. Maybe you can tell me what cockamamie excuse you fed to the administration about your absence. I’ve got experience with those, you know, with Tony.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah. It was _all Tony’s fault_.”

“I’ll have you know I was a good kid.”

“I know you were, Happy, you grew up to be a _security agent_ ,” Peter laughed.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Peter spent the day thinking about subterfuge.

He was, admittedly, not very good at it. He couldn’t convince Ned not to name him _bug boy_ in his phone, and to Peter’s superhuman hearing Ned seemed to whisper at about the same volume as a train whenever talking to him at school about his extra-curricular activities.

Peter was glad Ned knew so that he had a friend to complain to (because May knowing was cool, but you can't complain to mom the same way you can to your best friend), but Ned was so blasé and thoughtless about it that even Peter acknowledged it was easier when he didn't know.

But Peter also knew if things went on the way they were going, between the constant absences and the clear lies, he would have lost Ned as a friend altogether if he didn’t.

Anyways, he figured that if they were being _that_ weird at school, someone would mention it. Besides MJ, of course - she was supernaturally observant. It was freaky.

Peter and Ned were acting weird. Weird enough that a rumor had started that he and Ned were dating, a rumor he couldn't quash no matter how hard he tried.

Sometimes he wondered if MJ knew. Not knew _everything_ (because the truth was so absurd), but knew _something_. Maybe knew that he lied about where he went when he disappeared, maybe knew Ned was in on it. MJ was definitely smart enough to realize that Peter and Ned weren’t dating.

In any case, they really needed to get better at this.

Ned had given him some ideas. He got a bluetooth headset (which Ned somehow programmed to feed into the suit) so he could talk to Karen whenever he needed. He looked like a dork, wearing a bluetooth headset during lunch and after school, but worse things had happened.

Ned had gotten an identical one. Peter didn’t know how he felt about it. Sure, it made him look less suspicious, but…

“You two look like super-dorks,” MJ told them, sitting in front of them for lunch. “Identical headsets, my god. It’s no wonder people think you’re dating.”

“You don’t normally sit with us,” Peter said. “You usually sit down the table.”

She shrugged, popping some chips into her mouth. “You’re my friends now. I sit with you.”

“We are?” Ned asked, surprised.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Peter felt something warm settle in his chest. “Cool. I’ve never really had friends other than Ned.”

“You have to hang out with us after school, then,” Ned said. “You’ll have to watch Star Wars with us, though. A lot.”

She assessed the offer, then sighed dramatically. “I’ll make it through,” she said, an acceptance.

It occurred to Peter that with the addition of another person he hangs out with after school, he’s going to have to make the ‘internship’ a little more realistic.

“We only really hang out on weekends, though,” Peter said. After a beat, Ned nodded, trying to act like that was normal.

MJ nodded sagely. “The internship. What’s your title, anyway? Official paper-getter?”

The wheels in Peter's head spun, not finding traction. Peter was a Mensa-level genius, but he wasn’t very clever.

Mr. Stark had joked once that he wished the spider had bitten someone cleverer.

“Associate office manager,” Ned said quickly. “He schedules Stark’s appointments and stuff. Right?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, mouth dry.

“Oh my god,” MJ laughed. “You’re the office bimbo!”

“I am not the office bimbo!” Peter insisted. It finally occurred to Peter to wonder if Protocol: Baby Monitor could hear everything he said or heard through the headset too.

MJ snickered. “Do you go to all of his meetings?”

“No, seeing as I have school,” Peter said. “I work on cool stuff like his projects.”

“Really,” she said disbelievingly. “Like what?”

Peter fought an overwhelming urge to say _I’m on the spider-man engineering team and I help make his suit_ , because that was too close to the truth to be safe. She took his silence as confirmation.

MJ grinned. “Office bimbo. Does he at least pay you well?”

“He…” It also occurs to Peter that he isn’t paid anything at all. _If you had accepted, you’d probably be making bank_ , says Ned’s voice in his head. “Not yet.”

Her grin got even wider.

“If I do a good job he’s going to hire me on after I graduate, okay? It’s worth it.” That, at least, was truthful.

“Whatever, short stack. Next Saturday, your place. That’s where you and Ned always go, right?”

“Right,” Peter agreed, mouth dry. There goes his Saturday patrols. Saturday was the highest crime day of the week, and he doubted MJ would agree to only hang out in the mornings. He'd have to come up with a reason the Stark internship requires him on Saturday nights.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

He couldn’t even listen to the police scanner. Saturday was the highest crime day of the week, and Peter was stuck here with MJ.

 _It’s only one Saturday_ , he reasoned. _I'll come up with something for the others._

That didn’t ease the feeling of guilt that there was probably a murder happening out there that he could be stopping. The only reason he wasn't is because he was trying to keep this all a big secret, like a panty-waisted TV show character. And someone could be dying for it.

 _Maybe I can complain about feeling sick_. He’d used the illness excuse at school so much that he was getting something of a reputation for having a weak immune system. It only made Flash’s attempts to bully him bolder, adding in insults about weakness to his collection. Peter didn’t find the irony amusing.

“This is my first time watching Star Wars all at once like this,” MJ said. “I’ve seen all the movies, but totally out of order. I barely even remember them.”

“I can’t believe that! You’re kidding me!” Ned says.

It’s been a while since Peter watched all the Star Wars movies, but he didn’t pay any attention.

Normally, he’d be out saving lives. But he was tied to this couch.

He considered just telling MJ. It was worth telling her if he could save even one person from being shot tonight. He doubted MJ would be as heavy-handed with his secret.

But they only just started hanging out - what if they stopped being friends six months from now? He can’t just have someone floating around who knows.

"Peter, are you feeling all right?" Ned asks very loudly.

Peter was about to answer 'fine, why -' but then he realized what Ned was doing, the opportunity Ned was giving him.

 _"No,"_ he answered just as loudly, trying to look ill.

It didn't take ten seconds for MJ's face to fall. Not like upsetness that her friend was sick - disappointment that her friend was starting up with the bullshit again.

Shit. He was too obvious and now MJ thinks he's trying to avoid her.

(Peter isn't, of course. He doesn't tell anyone that ever since the decathalon, he's suddenly always a little too aware when MJ's around, a little too sensitive to the smell of her in a room -)

But he can't just say he isn't, damnit, because then he's outing himself as having tried to lie.

"Just feeling a little nauseous," Peter mumbles on his way to the bathroom.

It's _one_ Saturday. The chances that someone is being murdered between now and 10 PM on this particular Saturday are pretty low. Most crimes occur after midnight.

And even if someone _is_ , the chances are it's some kind of mobster who... not that they deserved it, exactly, but that it wasn't a crime that was affecting innocent civilians.

To make himself feel better, he scrolled through the news. Nothing going on on this particular Saturday. He scrolled through the police's twitter, just to be sure.

After assuring himself that no innocent people were dying because of his lie, he walked back into the room.

Ned seemed surprised he was back. Frankly, MJ seemed surprised too.

"It'll be okay," he said, settling in to watch the movie. “Just ate something bad, I guess.”

The rest of the night, he made sure not to stare out the window too much, and tried to get her smell off his mind.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

It was one of those days Peter was out to after-school lunch/dinner with Happy.

“- and Flash was being a total jerkoff, like usual, so maybe I let a little of my strength out and I kick the soccer ball in his direction so hard he has to dive to avoid it!” Peter finishes.

Happy looks at him.

“That’s it!” Peter says. “Yeah!”

“You kicked a soccer ball at a guy for revenge?”

“Yeah,” Peter falters. “It’s supposed to be cool.”

“That reminds me, Tony thinks you should start training.”

Peter stopped dead. “What?”

Happy nodded, working on his own deli sandwich. “I do too. You’re strong, but your fighting style is a mess. If you didn’t have mutant powers, you’d be flattened in a minute.”

Peter picked up his food and slowly started to eat.

“Nothing serious, though. Just come by the compound maybe once a week. Natasha can train you, she’s the best fighter we have.”

Peter stopped chewing again.

He was gonna train with _Black Widow._

“You okay?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m cool, I’m cool,” he said lightly.

Happy narrowed his eyes. “You’re freaking out.”

Peter’s response came out a hiss. “Of course I’m freaking out! Training with Black Widow?! She’s so -“

“Keep whatever you think she 'so is' to yourself," he said shortly.

“- I was going to say scary,” Peter said, because honestly, he was. “She’ll kill me.”

“That’s true,” Happy said, as if he were commenting on the weather.

* * *

After Happy dropped him off, the very first thing he did was call Ned (because he couldn’t risk the texts being read).

_“Hello?”_

“Dude I’m going to train with _Black Widow_ ,” Peter hissed.

_“WHAT?”_

“I’m going to train with _Black Widow,_ ” he said again, pounding the stairs up to his Aunt May’s apartment.

_“No way.”_

“Yes _way_.”

_“When do you start?”_

“Tomorrow,” Peter said breathlessly, slamming the apartment door closed. “She’s gonna kick my ass.”

_“I know. That’s so cool. Can I come watch?”_

“Not tomorrow. I’ll ask after a few weeks.”

_“So cool.”_

“Don’t get your hopes up, Ned. Mr. Stark will probably say no because of secrecy or because he doesn’t like you or something.”

_“Stark doesn’t like me?”_

“Mr. Stark doesn’t like _me_ , Ned.”

He could practically hear Ned’s disappointment. _“Mr. Stark does like you, he asked you to be an Avenger.”_

Peter kicked the floor nervously. “Just because I’m powerful,” he mumbled.

It wasn’t the first time Peter thought about this. He knew everything there was to know in the public record about superheroes. He knew how much Captain America could bench press when he was ten, and he knew Tony Stark’s IQ (200+) and he would know Hulk’s bench press if that could ever be measured.

He knew that stopping a bus at full speed was something beyond what any Avenger could accomplish bare-handed, even Captain America. Sometimes the thought made his blood run cold.

_“Then he’s missing out.”_

Peter smiled. He was really blessed to have Ned as a friend.

_“Wanna come play Battlefront?”_

“Nah dude, I’ve got to patrol. You and MJ make me such a slacker.”

_“Stay safe.”_

“I always do.”

Peter dropped the phone on his bed, taking his clothes off to reveal the suit below.

* * *

 

Peter Parker

Happy picked him up from school, and instead of taking him to his Aunt May’s or for lunch, they went straight to the Avenger compound.

“You should probably change,” Happy said, gesturing to him in the car. “Put on the mask and the gloves.”

Peter looked at Happy. “Why?”

“One, it's best that we don't reveal your identity to anyone who doesn't need to know. Two, she likes to surprise people.”

Thus, ten minutes later, out of the car stepped Happy Hogan and Spider-Man strolling casually into the Avengers compound.

Peter still hadn’t gotten over how cool it was. After he turned down the offer to be an Avenger, he got a sick feeling in his stomach like he’d made a horrible mistake and he’d never get the chance again.

But here he was with Happy Hogan, who had become something of a friend. And unlike the other times he’d been here, he could expect to be _back_. _Soon_.

“Does it ever wear off?” Peter asked Happy.

Happy’s answer was a smile. “No.”

Peter gazed around in awe. That’s when he noticed people were looking back at him. He was used to that in the suit, but what he wasn’t used to was the way they were looking at him. Less awe, more analytical interest.

“You’d think they wouldn’t worry about me. They’ve got Iron Man," Peter said amicably.

Happy'a answer was low. “You’re stronger than you realize.”

 _Again with the cold feeling in the pit of my stomach_ , Peter thought.

Happy led him through a maze of hallways, until eventually they were stopped outside a gym.

At least, that’s what Peter thought it was. But it was four times the size of one, with a ceiling five stories high and a floor that was made of a firm yet soft material.

Once Peter had went a little ways into the room, he turned to see Happy waiting by the door.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Peter asked.

Happy smiled. “No.”

A ninja star planted itself in the ground in front of Peter.

A female voice rang across the room. “Your focus is on me now."

Peter looked up to see Black Widow standing across the room.

“Oh my God,” Peter said, mouth dry.

She cocked her head. “Just gonna stand there?” She started cooly walking towards him.

“What do you want me to do, attack you?” Peter said. “I’ve never… trained, or sparred, or anything before -“

A ninja star whizzed past him, tearing his suit near his bicep.

“Mr. Stark is not gonna like that,” Peter said.

Her walk turned into a run.

“Oh crap,” he said.

He reached up and shot a web at the ceiling, propelling himself up just in time to miss getting kicked in the throat.

He looked back down to see Happy had stepped back through the door and was watching through the glass window.

“So, like, what are the rules to dueling?” Peter asked, breathing hard.

“This is an assessment. Here are the rules; don’t pull any punches, kid, or I can’t assess you.”

She wasn’t pulling any punches, either; suddenly there were three little steel balls hurtling at him, and he didn’t want to find out what they did.

He crawled along the ceiling, keeping his height advantage. Despite being the most badass spy _ever_ , she couldn’t walk on ceilings (as far as he knew).

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pull my punches? I punch really hard.”

Another steel ball flew at him. He jumped to dodge it but it exploded into a net, capturing him and dragging him off the ceiling.

He grabbed the threads of the net and ripped them apart, slinging himself to a wall just before hitting the ground.

“That was impressive,” Black Widow said. “Those fibers were reinforced steel woven into a fabric.”

“That’s me,” Peter joked weakly.

Black Widow crossed her arms. “I’m happy to attack you all day, but at some point you’re going to need to attack me back for this assessment to work. Treat me like you would any enemy you’re not trying to kill.”

“I pull punches with them.”

Black Widow rolled her eyes. “Stark was _not kidding_ about what a smartass you are.”

Peter figured, _what the hell,_ and fired a web at her.

Suddenly she had a knife out of nowhere and sliced through it. Where did she get a knife that could slash through his webbing?

Before he knew what was happening, she had jump-flipped into the air and grabbed the web. Then she _yanked_ on it and Peter was flying towards her.

Peter slung a web towards the ceiling. Suddenly his swing forward was controlled putting him on an arc and slamming into Black Widow in the process, throwing her back. Peter landed attached to the wall.

For a moment, Peter thought she’d go down - but all that happened was she flipped in midair and landed on her feet.

“I said, _don’t pull any punches_.” She looked decidedly annoyed now.

For the first time during this training match, Peter was a little scared.

She ran at him, and Peter didn’t have any time to react. She threw a grappling hook that wrapped around his feet and then she kicked off the wall, hoping to dislodge him.

All that happened was that Peter counterbalanced and fell forward on the wall, his knees supporting the weight of her hook.

Seeing an opportunity, Peter grabbed the hook and swung it up toward the ceiling.

“I’m sorry Black Widow!”

Black Widow, still attached to the end, slammed against the ceiling _hard_. The impact echoed around the gym.

Suddenly, an electric shock traveled up the grappling hook.

Peter yelped and jumped off the wall, freeing himself from the cable. He shot a web across the ceiling and swang, only to find Black Widow’s arm firmly attached to his legs. How the hell did she get there?

Black Widow lunged up, one hand grabbing his shoulder and the other grabbing the web shooter he was attached to. Somehow in one motion she dislodged it from his wrist and sent him flying, still hanging onto the web shooter herself. She swung so gracefully from it, it looked like it belonged to her.

As Peter landed flat on his ass, she flipped down and landed gracefully next to him. She walked up to him and lifted her arm.

“Holy shit,” he said, flipping away before her blow could land. She pounded the ground next to him.

He reached up his other arm to swing away, but her wrist caught the web shooter and snapped it off as cleanly as the first.

“I see why you’re famous,” Peter said, jumping up and hoping to stick to the ceiling.

Instead, another cable wrapped around his leg and he was slammed to the ground before he could make it up.

“That’s for slamming me on the ceiling,” she said, still looking as perfect as a movie poster.

Peter knew he needed to go on the offensive. But she’d gotten her hands on both his web-shooters, and he knew without a doubt he wouldn’t beat her in hand-to-hand combat.

Well, she said this was an assessment. He had to try.

Before he could get a chance, she lunged forward. He blocked her hit, then another, then another, and soon it was taking all his energy just to keep a blow from landing.

 _She’s just a human,_ Peter thought. _There’s a chance her blows won’t hurt that bad. I should let her hit me so I can hit her._

Peter inhaled heavily. _She said don’t pull any punches._

Peter let a blow on his left cheek land as he lunged forward with his right arm. His hit caught her shoulder, and she _flew._

She kept flying, all the way until she hit the back wall and fell down.

For a moment, she didn't move.

“Oh my God,” Peter said, “I am so sorry, Black Widow, Ms. Romanoff -“

His spider sense tingled down his back, and he preemptively jumped away.

A blue disk flew at his face, and he only just jumped out of the way in time. _Good. At least he hadn’t killed her._ He’d never live down accidentally killing Black Widow.

Peter was beginning to feel like a loose nuke. He was clearly far more powerful than her, but he had no idea how to use it. He didn't even really hit her that hard.

“You’re gonna have to hit me harder than that to take me down,” she said. Peter could tell, she wasn’t playing around with him anymore.

His spider sense tingled down his back again, and this time he flattened himself. Above his head, a few more blue disks shot by.

Faster than he could blink, he was yanked up by his legs and a hand came down across his stomach, pounding him into the ground.

Peter tried to kick up, but she was already gone. Peter flipped over and pushed up, launching himself several feet into the air.

She shot a cable, hoping to yank him down, but he anticipated it and spun in midair. He managed to stick to the ceiling.

“Hey, what happened to my web shooters?” Peter asked. “You didn’t break them, did you? Those are expensive.”

She took them out of a pocket, and dangled them in front of him. She was goading him, and Peter knew it. _She said don’t pull any punches_.

When his spider sense tingled down his back, he tried to kick off the ceiling to get away. He wasn’t quick enough. The disk embedded in his shoulder.

Suddenly his muscles were jerking and sluggish and wouldn’t respond. Instead of whipping out on a thought, his arm dragged through the air, and he crashed on the floor on his face. He flipped over, and ripped the disk out, seeing Black Widow’s contemplative look.

Just as quickly, she was on top of him again. She brought her foot down on Peter’s nose, and he heard it break with a crack.

“God damnit not again,” he said, grabbing her foot. That was the third time his nose was broken this year.

He hoped to yank her down, but what happened is that her leg lifted with him on it, and then slammed down on his legs.

Peter realized the only advantage he had against her at close quarter was his powers, so he grabbed her back and _stuck_ , so when she tried to flip away he went with her and his weight dragged her down.

“I’m sorry miss, I’m not usually this handsy,” he said cheekily.

"You're talkative when fighting," she observed.

Peter tried to reach for the pocket with the web shooters, but before his hand could land she flipped him over and jerked his other arm beneath him.

She reached around, presumably to land a blow, but Peter jerked up and brought his arm up to grab her wrist and _stuck_.

He let go of her back with his other arm and grabbed her arm just as she came around and _stuck_.

As she flipped up and did a handstand, using his arms as support, Peter wondered exactly what his plan _was_ , here. Just to not get pummeled, really.

But as she flipped around, Peter’s shoulders were yanked around. He had no choice but to kick his legs up and flip up as well or risk dislocating his shoulders.

Peter had the advantage of strength, still. He kicked hard enough that at the top of his arc his feet met the ceiling, and he _stuck_ , Black Widow dangling from his arms.

Black Widow pulled up and wrapped her legs around Peter’s arm.

Peter's spider sense tingled down his back. “Oh shit -“

She flexed her legs, and Peter’s arm snapped. Pain shot up his arm, a sharp, hot pain that distracted him.

“Damn! I’ve never met anyone who could break my bones before!”

“I’m famous for a reason,” she said.

Peter didn’t unstick his hand, because now that she’d broken this arm, she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Or so Peter thought. She very smoothly dropped her legs down and switched to the other arm.

Peter let go quickly, and while she was falling he set his arm with a sickening _crunch_. The pain (and being upside down) made him sick, but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t let that heal and set wrong, especially when it was only a hairline fracture.

He shot down off the ceiling and towards her, hoping to land on top of her before she had a chance to throw anything else at him.

She deftly rolled out of the way, but Peter landed on all fours (sending shots of pain up his broken arm) and was able to leap up directly at her. He grabbed her wrists and _stuck_ as they flew towards the wall.

He used the valuable second she was distracted by the impact to grab the web shooters.

Before he could put them on, her hand met his wrist and they flew out across the floor.

“Not cool,” Peter said. They were across the room, meaning _he_ had the advantage.

Using the grip he had on her wrist, he threw her across the room in the other direction.

“Sorry!” He called after her.

He coiled up against the wall and jumped hard. In a second, he was skidding across the room with the shooters in his hand. As soon as he had the shooters, he stuck them to his hand and shot up to the ceiling, narrowly missing several more disks.

Peter danced between the walls jumping up and down while he fixed a web shooter to his right wrist, dodging more spinning disks.

“How many of those do you have?” He asked incredulously. Then, he fired a web at her.

She jumped out of the way, said “A lot,” and ran at him.

Now that he was on the walls again, he had to stay moving or she was going to yank him down. He fixed the other web shooter to his other wrist, knowing he was going to need both if he was going to catch her.

Soon he was shooting webs on either side of her, hoping to keep her jumping and catch her against the wall.

“Karen, net shooter,” he said, aiming at Black Widow. He fired two, covering an area of 10ft, and she wasn’t quite able to jump out of the way in time.

She was stuck to the wall.

“Oh yeah!” Peter said.

Suddenly, she was cutting herself free.

Peter blanched. “Oh no.”

Her wrist poked through the net and more than twenty disks shot at him, fanning out.

As they ran toward him, they started crackling with electricity like a net.

“Oh _no,_ ” Peter said, jumping horizontally to try and get clear.

He didn’t make it. His foot was caught, and he was thrown into the back wall by the shock.

It didn’t hurt, exactly, but his limbs weren’t responding anymore. He tried to get up, but his knees buckled beneath him.

Suddenly some darts came out of nowhere, pinning him to the wall. Several more disks plowed into his arm, and he was paralyzed.

She walked up to him, spinning a knife in her hands.

“You got me,” Peter said. “Happy now?”

Another voice answered. “I am.” In walked Tony Stark.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter said, flushing under his suit.

“That was quite a performance, kid,” he said, clapping slowly.

“You didn’t tell me he was this strong,” Black Widow said to Tony.

“I didn’t know. He’s not a showoff. Which is why we’re here.”

“I didn’t know either,” Peter said defensively. He was already starting to get some feeling back.

Black Widow gestured to him. “Look, he’s already moving again after the widow’s bite.”

“Nat, Get him down so we can go to the weight room.”

“Get him down yourself, Stark.”

Tony looked at the widow’s bite disks. “I think your bite will probably kill me.”

Black Widow looked at Tony and pulled Peter off the wall.

In a couple seconds, Peter was up on wobbly feet. “So how’d I do?”

“Terribly,” Tony said, “But that’s all right.”

“But I almost got her for a moment!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “One, you did not _almost_ get her. Two, even if you had, that’s only because you’re superhumanly fast and strong, not because of any actual skill you have.”

Black Widow grinned. “I pulled my punches."

Peter was scandalized. “But you told me not to!”

“Yeah, I’m the instructor. I can do that.”

“What if I killed you?”

“You can’t kill me.”

Tony cut in. “You don’t even know what you can do, Peter, stop worrying about whether or not you’re gonna hurt people.”

Peter felt that his strength was already nearly back when they arrived at the weight room.

It was a weight room unlike any he’d ever seen. It had a deadlift attached to two blocks that were marked one ton each, a deadlift at two tons, and ridiculous concrete blocks laid all over it.

“Wow.”

“Go deadlift the one ton,” Tony said, pointing to it.

Peter swallowed. “I don’t know how to do a deadlift, Mr. Stark.”

“It’s easy,” Natasha said. “Pick it up, lift up from your legs. Don’t bring it above your hips, don’t use your arms.”

Peter nodded, and walked over to it. “How much do rebar building columns weigh?”

“More than these deadlifts,” Tony said. “Why?”

Peter shrugged. “One time I was trapped underneath this building and…” _dark, cold, wet, the columns digging into his shoulders, driving the breath out of him, he was going to die here_ \- “and I lifted them off of me.”

“What? _When_?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged again. “Toomes dropped a building on top of me.”

“And you… lifted the building off of you?” Tony’s voice was a bit distant.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Well, just the central columns, really. You know, the big ones with rebar in the center of like, parking garages and stuff.”

Tony nodded numbly.

Peter positioned himself in front of the one ton and gripped.

At first, he was surprised by how heavy it was. He pulled up, and it didn’t budge.

 _That’s not right_ , Peter thought. _I stopped a bus_.

He relaxed, and he felt the bunched up muscles all along his arms. He was holding back instinctively, flexing and using the smaller muscles before even starting the lift.

Peter closed his eyes and breathed out his nose. He didn’t need to hold back. He was in the Avenger’s compound.

He relaxed his whole body, and pulled. The deadlift came up smoothly, almost weightless.

“Wow, that wasn’t so hard,” Peter said, lifting it above his hips and above his head easily. He was tempted to do reps but held back.

Black Widow’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not straining?” She asked.

Peter frowned. “I mean, sure, it’s heavy, but I’m not gonna drop it.” He felt like he could spin it in the air, but figured that would be unsafe given the two humans in the room.

“Try the two ton,” she said. Her voice betrayed nothing.

Peter walked over to it. It was heavier, but again, he didn’t have a ton of trouble lifting it. It did take both hands to steady it above his head, though. He didn't feel so comfortable tossing this one around like a toy.

His first instinct was to be proud of how strong he was. An instinctive male desire to be the strongest, he supposed. What overwhelmed him more was a cold sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I didn’t realize I was this strong,” Peter said weakly. “Uh, Mr. Stark, remember how you said building columns are more than these deadlifts?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, watching him hold up the weight.

“Lets go out back,” Natasha said.

Peter dropped the two ton bar. “How heavy are they?”

“It’s hard to say, without knowing how long they were or how tall the building that fell on you was.” Peter could tell Mr. Stark was equivocating.

Natasha spoke up. “We’re just going to employ the scientific method, all right? Make you lift things until you can’t lift them anymore.”

Peter was led out of the building and down a set of stairs. Out back there was a collection of rusted and damaged cars and small destroyed buildings.

“It’s a training field,” Black Widow explained. ”Try lifting that sedan.”

Peter gripped the sedan’s bottom edge. “Up, like this?” He pitched it up on it’s side easily.

“Try lifting it in the air,” Nat said. Tony’s eyes had begun to get wide.

“Sure, sure,” Peter said distantly, putting the car down. He was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed. He thought that the incident in the warehouse was a fluke, an edge-of-death sort of thing, like when mothers lift cars off their children.

Peter crawled under the car and lifted.

It took a bit of balance and Peter was huffing, but the car came up on his shoulders. He was even able to stand straight up with the sedan on his back, albeit unsteadily.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., how much does a Lexus RS 350 weigh?” Tony said. “4,500 lbs,” he said a beat later, looking faint.

“Are you all right, Mr. Stark?” Peter said, still holding the car and huffing.

“You’re stronger than Cap,” Black Widow said. “Aside from Hulk, you’re the strongest man on the team. And you don’t need to Hulk out to do it, so big plus.”

Peter set the sedan back down. “What about Vision?”

Tony cleared his throat. “Vision’s an otherworldly being, not a man.”

“Scarlet Witch can throw stuff with her mind,” Peter said.

“I think she has to work at it to throw a car,” Tony said.

Black Widow spoke up. “Lift that truck.” For her part, she looked unaffected.

Peter looked over at the rusty truck he was pointing at.

“How much does that weigh?” He asked unsteadily.

Her eyes glinted. “I’m not telling you.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he crawled under the truck.

This time, it took some straining and groaning, but he was able to hoist the truck’s frame onto his shoulders and into the air. It was heavy enough that he had trouble balancing it, and it wobbled from side to side.

“Can you stand?” Natasha said.

Peter groaned loudly, straightening out his back. “Yeah,” he panted. The truck didn't offer a convenient place to balance the weight, and it wobbled back and forth.

“6,000 lbs, you can put it down,” Tony said.

Peter let it tip off his shoulders and fall to the side, panting hard.

“Still weaker than the Hulk?” He asked hopefully.

“Sorry kid,” Natasha said.

Peter shrugged, playing it off.

In reality, he was disturbed. He could lift a Ford work truck onto his back, cold, probably even throw it if he tried.

If he ever lost control, or was taken by surprise and kicked or hit someone, he could _kill_ them. Crush their bones into powder and splatter them on the walls. The image made him sick, made him want to cry.

He thought he wasn’t pulling punches during that ‘assessment,’ but clearly he was.

Peter swallowed hard.

“I see you’re already healed, too,” Natasha said, pointing to the scrape she’d left on his arm. The scrape that was already perfectly healed.

“Oh yeah," Peter said distantly. "I heal super-fast.”

“Have any statistics about what super-fast means?” Tony said.

“Well, I set my arm during the fight with Natasha because if I waited until after it would have grown wrong and I would have had to re-break it. I learned that the hard way.” Peter shrugged, trying to play it off.

Tony blanched again. Peter thought Tony really wore his emotions on his face.

“It’s way better now, anyways. It’ll be fine by tonight," he reassured him.

“I can’t believe you did deadlifts with a broken arm," Tony said, half amazed and half annoyed.

To be honest, Peter had totally forgotten about it. “My arm broken is stronger than most bones healed.” Those lifts were heavier on his back and legs anyways.

“I can see why you didn’t leave this one on the streets,” Natasha said. “Here’s what we’re going to do; you’re going to come in twice a week until you know the extent of your abilities and how to control them.”

“Twice a week?” Peter exclaimed. “The world must be trying to kill me.”

“Why’s that?” Tony asked as they walked back inside.

“Patrols, break days, and I’ve got a new friend at school who wants to hang out all the time. Now this. When am I supposed to sleep?”

Tony scoffed. “You can’t just tell this new friend that you’re an incredibly busy and important intern at Stark Industries and that you don’t have time for this?”

Peter looked at his feet. No, he couldn’t, he liked MJ. Really liked her. It was nice to have someone else so that it wasn’t just he and Ned.

“School? How old is this one?” Natasha said.

Tony looked down, scratched behind his ear.

“Fifteen," Peter answered promptly.

Tony looked like he was going to kill him.

“Fifteen!?” Natasha said, rounding on Tony. “You brought a fifteen year old into this?!”

“Should I go?” Peter asked meekly.

“No,” Natasha said, hard.

Tony turned to Natasha. “What was I supposed to do, leave him on the streets in that ridiculous costume I found him in terrorizing the locals?”

“You weren’t supposed to bring him into _our fight._ ”

Ah, the fight. The fight at the airport. Peter had been so excited to help Mr. Stark that when he repeatedly asked what the fight was about, and when he was brushed off, he didn't even mind too much.

When he was there, he got the impression that it was less of a fight against bad guys and more of some kind of inter-family dispute. Nobody fought with deadly force and everyone looked upset while they did it. Captain America tried to give him friendly life advice, _while_ they were fighting.

“Steve brought that ant-man, or whatever, into it.”

“Scott Lang is an adult. This kid is a _child_.”

Peter piped up. “You can call me spidey.”

“Does he even know what that fight was about? Do you?” Natasha said, turning to him.

Peter felt on-the-spot. “Um, some.”

“Some?!” Natasha said, turning back to Tony. “You didn’t tell him!?”

“I know it was about the accords, and that superheroes were supposed to be accountable by being registered, but Captain America and his friends didn’t want a registry or ten layers of bureaucratic oversight. Look, there wasn’t a lot of information available, and to be honest…” Peter shrugged. His next words were mumbled. “Iron Man is my hero, you know? So when Iron Man showed up and said he needed _my help_ , of course I went.”

Natasha turned back to Tony, more slowly this time. “You called on the help of an overpowered teenager who hero-worshipped you? For a _civil war_?”

“All’s well that ends well,” Tony defended. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Natasha looked back at Peter murderously, but he got the impression it wasn’t him she was mad at.

“I can leave if you’d like,” Peter said again, pointing towards the building.

Natasha huffed. “I hate to just tell you to get out of here like I’m sure _adults_ " she said, glaring at Tony, "do to you all the time, but yeah, that would be best.”

Peter didn’t need telling twice. He bounded away towards the building. He heard them argue and their voices rise as soon as he jumped up.

 _They don't know about my super hearing or my super senses,_ he realized. He'd have to tell them sometime.

He was slowly getting the impression that the battle at the airport was way, way more complicated than Tony had let on.

He grabbed his backpack and grabbed Happy, and they were on the way back to his Aunt May’s apartment in no time.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

“How was training?” Ned eagerly asked the next day at school.

“Awesome,” Peter distantly.

It _was_ awesome. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fight they’d gotten in just before he left. The way Mr. Stark had said _“you’re here, aren’t you?”_ And the way Black Widow looked at him, like there were a million things she wanted to say and couldn’t because he was there.

“Doesn’t sound like it was,” Ned said, bumping into Peter.

“I found out I can lift an F250,” Peter said to distract both of them.

Ned’s eyes bulged. “No way.”

“Yeah way," Peter said. Ned looked amazed, but the idea just made Peter feel nauseous.

He’d always wanted to be a superhero when he was young, but he didn’t understand what he was singing up for.

He loved that he could help people with that strength, but he couldn’t help but also think about how much that sort of power could _hurt_.

And Tony Stark had gotten him mixed up in some kind of complicated inter-Avenger conflict, with _that_ power, without telling him what was up. Peter could have easily been manipulated into doing something really, _really_ bad.

The sick feeling stayed with him the rest of the day.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

The next few weeks were uneventful. School trudged on through the winter, Peter learned how to use the heater in his suit on patrols, and Black Widow kicked his ass twice a week every week at training.

Metaphorically, because instead of sparring any more they were focusing on teaching Peter proper technique. She wanted to make sure Peter could lift safely without hurting himself or people nearby, could throw a punch without breaking the victim’s skull.

Peter had learned to lift without hurting himself - the F250 was getting (alarmingly) easier to lift with each passing day - but they hadn’t found a punching bag that would stay on the chains. Black Widow said Tony was working on something for him.

He didn’t see Tony at training after the first day.

 _Finally_ , the drudgery let up one snowing Tuesday afternoon. He was hanging out at an empty streetcorner, playing around with his suit while someone filmed him three blocks away on their phone. Peter tried to ignore it, listening to the police scanner he had next to him.

_“Male, mid twenties, black sweatshirt black pants, fleeing the scene of a robbery at a liquor store…”_

“Go time,” Peter said to himself. Not that he was happy about crime - but he was happy he was here to _do_ something about it. He bolted, webbing the police scanner on a nearby building wall.

Within minutes, he was swinging next to the car fleeing the scene. He landed on the rooftop of the car, and using the control Natasha had been teaching him, punched a hole through the car. He bent the metal down, and dropped down into the passenger seat.

Immediately, he felt bad about the property destruction. He should have found a non-destructive way to get inside the passenger door instead. _Oh well,_ Peter thought, _at least I know for next time._

“You should probably stop the car,” he said lazily.

The robber immediately grabbed his gun from his lap and pointed it at him. Peter shot a web and immediately the hand and his gun were webbed to his seat.

“Drive carefully, you’ve only got one arm,” he said.

Peter realized he should put a police scanner _in_ the suit, because the wailing sirens and announcements to _pull over now_ told him they didn’t realize he was in the car. He’d love to be able to tell them.

Peter would jump out and web up the car, except that it would probably be fatal to the poor man beside him. And the robber was making bad life choices, but he hardly deserved to die.

Peter sighed. “I’ll undo the web if you’ll crawl into the backseat, and I can stop the car, how’s that sound?” He couldn’t trust the guy to stop it himself, after all.

He looked around, then nodded warily.

As soon as Peter ripped the webbing off, the gun went off.

He felt hot blood pooling in his suit, under his ribs.

 _This is what Mr. Stark is always saying_ , Peter thought numbly. _I need to think things through more._

Thinking Spider-Man had gone down, the robber went back to driving.

Ever since the spider, his ability to handle pain had shot through the roof, so while the shot was sharp and hot it didn’t distract him from what he needed to do.

First, Peter webbed the gun to the car where it sat on the dash. Then, Peter grabbed the man and threw him into the backseat and webbed him there. Then he jumped into the front of the car, and slammed the breaks.

Peter didn’t have much experience driving, so it came as a total surprise when slamming the breaks threw him through the glass.

The robber, webbed to the seats, was safe. It was Peter who skidded across the blacktop across shattered glass, the largest pieces tearing through the suit and embedding in his chest.

“Not what I wanted,” Peter groaned.

Peter never felt the pain, not at first, thanks to his spider powers. But he knew when his adrenaline wore off and his pain threshold returned to normal, he’d be in a world of hurt.

_“You have suffered moderate trauma. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”_

“No, Karen, Jesus,” Peter sat up, moaning. “I just gotta get the glass and bullet out and I’ll be fine.” The cops were already swarming the car, and him.

It wasn’t often that Peter actually came _into contact_ with the cops. They weren’t always friendly to him - _despite_ the fact that he always got the right guy and was very careful about not accidentally accusing anyone.

One time, the cops were convinced this serial killer was one guy, but then Peter outed it as being someone else, someone not even on their suspect list. Pre-airport-fight, it was the awesomest thing he'd ever done, but had they thanked him for it? No.

“I don’t need any help,” he sulked, picking the glass out of his chest.

This guy, though, seemed nice enough. “Our medics could take a look,” the cop said nicely. “Ambulance is on it’s way.”

Peter's answer was clipped. “I’m a mutate. I’ll be fine.”

The man looked down at him. “You got shot. Mutate or not, you’ll need that bullet out.”

He had a point. “Fine, I’ll wait here.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, that bullet was out (despite repeated insistence that he get it out at the hospital, Peter told them that if they didn’t dig it out _right here_ he’d do it at home).

The bullet wasn’t in deep, had barely clipped him, and it missed pretty much everything except surface musculature. With the wound stitched shut it was painful but bearable. He swung home slowly, careful not to irritate the wound.

When he got home, Tony Stark was sitting in his bedroom.

“Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?” He asked suddenly. He tried to stand so his wound wouldn't show.

“You got shot today and you didn’t go to the hospital?”

So much for that.

Peter was immediately annoyed. “Yeah, I didn’t. I’ll be almost healed when I wake up tomorrow morning. No point racking up a bunch of hospital bills nobody’s gonna pay.”

“Stark Industries would pay them.”

“I’m not a Stark. Or an Avenger.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Technically_ not, but you basically are. And anyways, it’s not just about that.”

Peter blinked at him.

“Despite my best efforts, you’ve managed to worm your way into my good graces, and now I’m invested in you emotionally. Congratulations, not many people manage to do that.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. Iron Man personally cared about him?

“You only care because I’m a kid,” Peter said, half irritation and half defense.

Tony held his hands up. “ _We_ care, Happy and Pepper and Natasha _and_ I, because you’re a kid, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You think we care because we think you’re weak. But kid, it’s exactly the opposite. We care because we know you’re strong, and determined, and can get yourself in a hell of a lot of trouble if you want. And _have_ ,” Tony emphasized the last word.

Peter looked at him, stubbornly saying nothing.

Tony sighed. “Look, I don’t want to wound your ego or whatever, but I’m _Tony Stark_. The only reason I am standing in the room of a fifteen year old boy is because I think he’s something. Tony Stark doesn’t visit the room of fifteen year old boys who aren’t anything.”

“You only think that because I’m a superhuman,” Peter mumbled.

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Am I in the room of Daredevil?”

Peter shrugged. “No.”

“There you go. I’m getting acid reflux from all the feeling, though, so can we stop? Lets stop.”

“I have some tums,” Peter quipped. “You should probably see a doctor. Does my mom know you’re here?”

“I can get anywhere I want without anyone knowing. But as a matter of fact, yes, she does.” Tony folded his arms.

Peter laughed. “I can’t believe she let you in.”

“I can’t either. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who didn’t care that I’m Tony Stark when she met me.” He looked confused by that, as if he couldn’t decide between feeling offended or relieved.

“So, did you hear me, kid? What are you gonna do next time you get shot?”

“Go to the hospital,” Peter mumbled. “Am I gonna get an Avengers Insurance Card?”

“I’ll have one printed and sent over,” Tony said.

“You felt the need to show up at my house to tell me this?”

“You’re fifteen. Texting you or calling you wouldn’t be enough reinforcement, but you’re old enough not to be lectured.”

“Tell Aunt May that,” Peter says bitterly.

Tony looked at his watch. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’ve gotta go.” He was out the door and out of the apartment before Peter could react.

* * *

 

**Ned Leeds**

“Peter’s acting weird today,” MJ said slowly.

Peter’s head was in his desk, covering his ears. He was having one of those days where he was overstimulated, his super-senses taking everything in. He told Ned he would have taken a sick day and spent the day in his suit (which controls what he can hear and see), except that he’d used too many of them already.

Peter had told Ned what it was like since the spider bite. He said everything was a little too bright, a little too loud, all the time, and that most of the time it was okay but sometimes he just wanted it to stop.

Ned responded by having them build a blanket fort, like they did when they were kids, and watch a movie on his laptop with the brightness and the sound down. Ned had to admit, it _was_ really calm and nice in that fort.

MJ leaned closer to him. “Is something wrong?”

Ned swallowed roughly. “No, he’s fine.”

MJ clicked, making Ned's heart drop. “He’s not fine. He’s acting like my cousin with Aspergers, except Peter doesn’t have Aspergers.” MJ stared at Ned as if asking for confirmation.

“They removed Aspergers from the DSM,” Ned said, mouth dry.

MJ spoke slowly. “Does Peter have Aspergers?”

“No, of course not!” Ned quickly defended.

She responded in kind. “So what’s wrong with Peter?”

Ned smacked his dry lips. He said the first thing that occurred to him. “I lied, I was trying to protect Peter. He has Aspergers," he said shakily. He cursed his own weak voice.

“No, he doesn’t,” MJ said smoothly. She leaned back in her seat. “We’re friends, though, right? I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it from me, whatever it is.”

"Peter doesn't want anyone to know," Ned said quietly. "It's personal."

It was personal, sort of. Peter took it quite personally.

MJ sat back. Ned would swear that under her mask of aloof indifference, Ned swore she looked a little hurt.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

It was one day at training that he saw Steve Rogers.

To be more precise, he saw Steve Rogers standing in an unused meeting room with Tony, _talking._

Peter’s spider sense wasn’t bothering him, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t danger. It didn’t go off for danger about those he loved, or long-term threats worming their way into his life _like the one right in front of him_.

The last time he saw that man, he was trying to flatten Tony.

He was wearing his suit from training, still, so he decided _what the hell._ He _had_ to, after all, make sure Tony was safe.

Peter burst into the room with no warning. “What is he doing here?” He demanded.

Steve stopped dead.

“Isn’t he a war criminal?” Peter pressed.

 _Peter, if Tony is in danger, maybe bursting in and accusing him of treachery wasn't the wisest thing to do,_ the smart part of his brain told him.

Tony turned dark eyes on him. “Kid, you don’t -“

“Don’t kid me, Mr. Stark,” Peter said angrily. “I was just some teenager crawling on buildings in Queens until you showed up at my house with a million dollar suit and told me to join _your_ fight, your fight against _him_. And now he’s _here_?

Tony looked hurt. “You were never just some teenager crawling on buildings in Queens,” he mumbled. Peter didn’t pay attention to the comment.

Judging by the easy way they were standing, Steve didn’t appear to be threatening Tony or demanding anything from him. If anything, both of them looked contrite.

Contrite means that they _both_ feel sorry. Enemy combatants in war don’t usually meet up in rooms and look sorry together.

Peter was told Steve Rogers was a war criminal who was trying to tear the Avengers apart and leave the world exposed, but that’s not what it looked like to him now.

He was dragged out of Queens, his entire life turned upside down, and he didn’t even know what for.

“He’s a teenager?” Steve asked, now staring at Peter.

“A teenager who will drop you off the tallest building in Manhattan if you ever hurt Mr. Stark again,” Peter threatened.

Steve Rogers looked torn, somewhere between wanting to put his hands up and wanting to laugh at his sheer audacity.

“He’s strong, Rogers, a lot stronger than you.” Tony said amicably to him. “He could do it.”

That made Steve decide to put his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt Tony.”

He remembered how devastated Mr. Stark was on the flight home, how he pretended to be chipper for the fourteen year old but stared out the window the entire flight back. Peter was young, and he didn’t bother to notice then.

Peter was so young then. So much could change in a year.

“You already have.”

Steve flinched like he’d been struck.

“That wasn’t him,” Tony said reflexively. Then he sighed. “Do you know why we fought at that airport?”

“The Sokovia accords,” Peter said. “Which I know I am still not registered on, and I suspect that breaks a few laws on it’s own.”

Tony sighed again, and rubbed his face. “Yeah.”

“I thought he and his gang were war criminals, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I’m really really glad you asked me to help. But if they’re war criminals, why is he here?”

Tony looked at a loss for words. “It’s… it’s more complicated than that, okay, kid?”

Peter looked between them. Tony didn’t seem to be lying. They both looked confused, and sad, and startled, not like a fight was about to break out.

“I want to trust you on this, Mr. Stark. But after my first training day when you got in that fight with Black Widow, and now this, I don’t know what to think.”

They were all silent for a moment. Peter thought he’d like to hear Mr. Stark’s defense right about now.

“How old are you?” Steve asked.

“What’s it matter?” Peter defended

“I’m not about to come down on you. In my day, boys went to war at fifteen and we respected them for it. But respect or no, a fifteen year old just doesn’t have the life experience to make decisions like this. We let men go to war at fifteen, but we didn’t let them make war decisions.”

Decisions, decisions like whether to hold Captain America to his sentence of treachery. Decisions like the one about whatever the hell was going on between these people. Peter didn’t even know what they were _deciding_ about.

Peter wanted to be offended, but he was too smart for that. Steve Rogers the War Criminal was right. Even the most impressive, responsible and educated fifteen year old was never going to be educated enough to make big decisions, decisions like the fate of the Avengers and the fate of the world.

Peter wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he knew that a battle at an airport between the two halves of the Avengers was essentially about the survival of the Avengers, and if the Avengers didn't survive then the world didn't survive.

Which means Peter had to leave it to Tony, and Tony seemed to decide to let Steve Rogers the War Criminal into the compound.

“Fifteen,” Peter answered.

Captain America looked like he was going to faint.

“How did you do that?” Tony said. “Anytime I try to talk sense into him he starts ranting at the speed of light and crawls out a window and disappears for three days. He _listened_ to you.”

“Because I gave him respect,” Steve said. “Respect I suspect he deserves.”

Tony snapped his mouth shut.

“So do I get to know why Captain America is here?” Peter asked warily.

“No,” Tony said shortly. Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Tony cut him off. “Don’t.”

“He’s your teenage Avenger,” Steve said dryly.

“He’s not an Avenger.”

“Not yet,” Peter piped up.

“Get out of here,” Tony said. “Go to your room or Aunt Hottie’s or wherever it is that you go.”

Peter frowned under his mask. “Fine,” he said. He jumped at the nearest window and crawled out.

As he shot a web towards a light pole to swing away, he heard Mr. Stark say “See, _this_ is what he normally does.”

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Peter didn’t see Mr. Stark for a while after that. He stopped being invited over to the compound for training, and he thought that it might be because Captain America was there and something big was going on and he wanted to keep Peter separate from all of it.

All he knew was that he hadn't trained for two weeks and hadn't seen hide nor tail of anyone from the Avengers. Not even Happy. It’s like they fell off the map.

Peter kicked a can on the street in frustration. That’s what adults did, they kept the kids out of the ‘adult’ discussions.

Sure, fine, whatever, except that the outcome of this discussion _affected_ Peter. He wasn’t some innocent kid who was going to be sheltered from whatever fight resulted; he knew that if this turned bad, he was going to be dragged into it again. And while Peter loved jumping into the fray and being a superhero, he knew the whole point was to prevent fights from even _beginning in the first place_.

Ned ran up to him, having escaped from the school. “You look upset.”

“Mr. Stark still hasn’t texted me.”

Ned frowned sympathetically. “I’m sure he will. He likes you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“Hey,” Ned said. “Let’s go do something fun. Text MJ and go buy another super lego set. Maybe you can suit up and go buy a bunch of children ice cream or something, you love that.”

Peter smiled at how well his friend knew him.

“You know, you should get a spider-man PO box. Let people send you fan mail or something.”

“But my identity will be on the PO box listing.”

“Dude, you’re spider-man. Just walk to the UPS in the suit and ask if you can take out a box in cash without identifying information. I’ll bet they’d do it.”

Peter laughed. “That would be so illegal.”

“People love spider-man! They’d do it.”

* * *

 _This is Ned’s fault_ , Peter decided as he strolled into the UPS. _He’s a bad influence_.

“I was hoping to open a PO box,” Peter said as confidently as he could.

The UPS attendant on duty looked at him. He didn't seem to be affected by the fact that spider man was in his UPS, gazing at him with the tired eyes of a minimum wage employee with a really long shift.

The employee behind him took out their camera and started filming excitedly.

“I don’t suppose you have identifying information," the attendant said tiredly.

“I was kind of, uh, hoping there was a way around that.”

The attendant stared at him dumbly, then turned to the employee who was filming.

“You have my permission,” the employee said, not dropping the phone. _He must be the manager._

The attendant went and shuffled through the back.

“So,” the manager said, “You’re accepting fanmail now?”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve been bummed out lately. A friend thought it would lift my spirits.”

“Your friends know your identity?” He asked eagerly.

Peter pointed at the camera. “One. Well, two, sort of. One. All right? It’s not a big thing.”

The attendant handed him the key.

“Dude, you just touched spider man,” the manager whispered.

Peter had a sudden idea. “Do you want a selfie, or something?” He asked, feeling like an utter, arrogant fool.

The manager practically ran to him, turning the camera around and getting them both in the frame. Maybe it wasn’t so arrogant.

“What’s your name,” Peter asked interestedly.

“Greg,” he answered excitedly.

Peter put his arm around Greg’s shoulder. “Okay Greg. Got anything you’d like to share with the world?”

“Just that it is so cool to be next to Spider-man!"

Peter laughed. He completely understood the feeling.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Next week, Peter got called back to the compound.

Happy didn’t give him an explanation, just showed up at his place and told him to pile in the car. Peter chattered, as usual, feeling more than a little nervous. But hey, maybe he was about to get the explanation about the battle he so desperately wanted.

Turns out, what he was getting was a scolding.

“That was such a bad idea!” Tony yelled as soon as he was in his office. “What if someone was trying to find you? What if someone thought the UPS guy knew your real identity?”

Peter blanched as he remembered what Tony was talking about.

And he realized Mr. Stark was right. He thought nobody would target the UPS guys because he went in his suit whenever he went to get the mail and no information was in the UPS system, but villainous evil bad guys didn’t always check the book records before hurting someone for information.

“But he didn’t get hurt! Nobody got hurt!" Peter said. "And I can just, close down the box and it’ll be fine,” he said, to console himself as much as to calm down Tony.

“No, you can’t, because now that UPS is out there on the record. And you foolishly picked the one closest to your Aunt May’s house; people can _use_ that information if they’re trying to find you. You told the entire internet that there are people who know your identity! You need to think these things _through_!”

The words felt like a blow to the chest.

But you know what, he didn’t have the right to stand there and scold Peter like this. He hadn’t talked to him for _weeks_ , had his training canceled with no warning, right when Peter knew the people they _fought_ were crawling around his compound.

“Because you always think things through!” Peter snapped at Tony.

Tony looked murderous. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it.

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ ” he growled.

“One minute we’re fighting them in an airport, and the next they’re in the compound?” Peter said warily.

Tony laughed without humor. “I am being condescended at by a fifteen year old.” Then he focused his gaze. “Peter,” he rumbled, using his given name, “Don’t stick your nose in things you don’t understand.”

“I’m trying not to,” Peter said defensively. “But you pulled me out of the streets to fight Captain America and his gang. Then you spend weeks being my superhero-mentor, or whatever, and then suddenly he shows up at the compound? But Captain America told me to _trust you_ , so I did. But then you disappear for _weeks_. And you’re just showing up now to scold me? Over a UPS box? Nothing about where you’ve been, or what’s been going on?”

“You are almost an adult,” Tony ground out, “And I am not your dad. I don’t need to explain myself. If you want to be on the team, you need to learn how to _take orders._ ”

The words struck Peter like a blow.

His response was curt. “No one said you were my dad.”

Something flashed across Tony’s face, just for a second, but then it was gone.

“Besides, aren’t you the one always saying I should think about what I’m getting into? How can I think about it when I don’t even know what’s going on?”

“ _You_ aren’t getting into anything,” Tony said.

“Of course I am! I’m spider-man!” Peter snapped.

All Peter meant was that since the Avengers knew his face and he had a bedroom in the Avengers compound, it was more than likely that whatever happened, he’d end up mixed up in it. He’s a superhero, that’s what superheroes do - get mixed up in things.

Tony heard something different.

“I am sick of this _childish_ need you have to insert yourself in everything! You blindly charge into situations, completely unaware of what’s going on, and then you end up injured or worse because you didn’t _think to prepare_. Right now is a perfect example. You’re picking a fight with _Iron Man_ , in his own house. What did you think was going to come of that?”

Tony charged on. “And what about the rest of us, huh? It’s one thing for you to risk yourself, but Avengers don’t exist in a vacuum. When we fight, we risk those who love us because they have to watch us die, and we risk civilians around us, the people who we’re trying to save. You don’t think of any of that. Why do you think the Sokovia accords exist in the first place?”

Peter didn’t mean to pick a fight. He just wanted Mr. Stark to see him as something more than a fuck-up, just wanted him to understand he was a part of things now whether anyone liked it or not.

“Get out of here.”

Peter was taken aback. “What?”

“Get. Out.”

“Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean -“

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted them. “Peter, please allow me to escort you out.” An empty Iron Man suit walked into the room, the strength-reinforced model.

Peter looked back at Tony. _Was he really doing this?_

He thought his heart would break. Peter felt like he couldn't breathe.

Tony sat down, no longer paying any attention to Peter. The suit tugged on his arm, gently but firmly. It occurred to him that Eeyore the strength suit probably hadn’t been chosen on a whim.

_Had Tony been planning this?_

He was escorted out, the suit holding his elbow the whole way.

He didn’t pass anyone on the way out. It’s just as well, because he felt tears pricking at his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure that's the first fight scene I've ever written in my life. I'd appreciate some feedback - did you understand what was happening? Or did you read parts only to wonder what exactly happened? Did I convey Peter being functionally overwhelmed well enough?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought the previous chapter was a draft, this is about as much of a draft as things can get. Huge swaths of time are missing and whump scenes still unwritten.

**Tony Stark**

About ten minutes later, Captain America walked into the room to find Tony sulking.

“Was that Spider Man?” Steve asked.

“No, he’s my intern," Tony said distractedly.

Steve stared at Tony.

Tony sighed. “Yeah.”

Steve pointed at the door. “Why was Spider-Man being escorted by a suit out of the building, crying?”

Tony looked up. “He was crying?”

Steve glared at Tony. “And why didn’t you know he was?”

Tony blinked. Then he shook himself. “He was being a teenager, you know how they get.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

The two of them gotten closer now that they were back in the compound together, but still not close enough that Tony felt right _opening up_ to him.

Tony had forgiven Barnes (he was mind-controlled, after all). But in Siberia, Steve _wasn’t_.

“Leave it, Rogers,” Tony said.

( _But it was you who threatened to kill him,_ he thought. _It was you who aimed right at his head. And it was him who only broke your suit instead of taking your life. The life of a friend who almost took his_ ).

( _Fuck_ ).

Steve shrugged. “Fine.” He left the room, leaving Tony where he was.

Before Siberia, before the airport, Steve would have never let Tony stew. Steve knew that when Tony stewed is when something went seriously wrong in Tony’s life.

Before Siberia, Steve would have stepped in, and they’d have talked, and probably fought a little, and Tony would have seen sense. Steve would push him to do the sensible thing, and Tony would.

After Siberia, Steve ignored Tony and left Tony to flounder.

Suddenly, Tony was forced to acknowledge what a self-absorbed shit he could be. Without Steve here to push him to do the sensible thing, he never did it for himself.

He felt like he got kicked in the chest.

“Fucking Rogers,” Tony said to himself. “Fucking Rogers.”

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Once Eeyore had made sure he was outside the perimeter of the compound, it flew away, leaving him by the side of the road.

He'd never been escorted by a suit to the side of the road before. Usually Happy gave him a ride.

Peter supposed he wasn’t allowed back there anymore.

Now that he was alone, his tears fell in earnest.

 _Don’t look back_ , he told himself.

He lost his chance. He was never going to be an Avenger.

Peter started the long walk home in his street clothes. He could have hitched a ride on a passing car, but he was too tired to do that just yet.

The memory of what Tony said played in his mind. Loved ones and civilians and innocent people he puts at risk with his own stupid behavior. _You don’t think of any of that_.

Peter feels an impulse to hit something, but all that happens is something painful _pings_ in his chest.

Uncle Ben died. Peter knelt at the side of the road and watched Uncle Ben’s blood seep out of his body, and even with the strength to lift ten cars and soar through the skyline of Queens, he still couldn’t pull his shit together and save Ben.

_That's what you do, Peter. You stand by and fuck it up while people die._

Peter felt his chest crush inwards.

A truck passed, and Peter swinged on top of it. He quickly put on his mask and stowed his street clothes in his backpack.

At least Mr. Stark didn’t take his suit. _But he was probably going to come for it as soon as it occurred to him. Rather, he'd send Happy after it, or a suit, or something._

Peter weighed his options. Give the suit back and go back to using his sorry excuse for a first suit, or take the tracker out and hide. Because if Tony went looking for him at Aunt May’s, he’d be able to find the suit, tracker or no. If he wanted to keep the suit, he had to leave.

Part of him wanted to give it back. Go back to his nice life with May and Ned and MJ, and be friendly neighborhood Spiderman on the side. He could go to college, get a nice job so he could afford to stay in Queens.

But now that he’d seen what he can do, he couldn’t. He couldn’t live that life knowing he could be doing a _lot_ more to help. He hadn't fucked anything up for the people he'd saved from that serial killer. He'd helped a lot of people. And he was smart and could get a lot of jobs, but he couldn’t get a job where he could save as many lives as he could being Spiderman.

He didn’t know how he’d help when he was kicked out of the Avengers, but he’d figure something out. Maybe he’d hook up with Daredevil or some of the others in the city. That Deadpool seemed cool, even if he was a bit of an asshole.

The memory shuddered through Peter.

_“Get. Out.”_

It wasn’t the end of the world, right? Maybe Peter couldn’t be an Avenger, but he was still a superhero, and that wasn’t going to change.

* * *

Peter stopped by Aunt May’s. He had no idea what to tell her.

So he decided on the truth.

Peter climbed in his bedroom window. “May,” he said shakily, walking through the door and taking his mask off.

“Peter!” She said. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I… Tony kicked me off the team.”

Her eyes bugged. “What?”

“Yeah, he told me to get out. Except…” Peter heaved a shaky breath. “Except he’s going to come take my suit, and I can’t let him.”

“He’s what?!”

“So I have to go somewhere else for a while, because he’s gonna come looking here, right?” Peter walked back to his room, packing some clothes and supplies.

May blinked. “You’re what?!”

“It’ll be just like camping for a while -“

May grabbed her nephew by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Peter heaved a breath. “I have to leave before Mr. Stark gets here. To take my suit. It’ll only be for a little while.”

May sighed. She spoke quietly. “I’d scream bloody murder at you and ground you, except that I know you can just climb right out your window anyway, so there’s no point. Is there anything I can say to convince you that you’re being absolutely ridiculous?”

Peter gripped her hands. “I’d rather not take the chance. And it won’t be forever, all right? Just a few days until I know what he’s going to do. It’ll just be like camping, you know?”

May put her hands on her hips. “You are, you know. Being ridiculous. Tony’s an emotional man, even if he likes to pretend otherwise, and he is probably already regretting what he said.”

May had spoken to Tony some, Peter knew. They talked about his progress, and Tony did sometimes ask for consent when they were going to do something especially stupid like get him to try and juggle sedans. There was the one time May inspected the compound, Happy driving her there and Tony hanging back like he was getting graded.

But Peter actually _knew_ him. Tony was snippy and emotional, but he didn't say things he didn't mean.

Peter shook his head, swallowing hard. “You didn’t… you weren’t there, all right? But I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you soon, May.”

May gripped his wrist. “You don’t have to do this.”

Peter let go, and didn’t look back as he crawled out the window.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

The first few hours was easy. He hung out on top of a truck, relying on his sticky feet to keep him attached to the truck despite the sometimes sudden lane changes it made. The wind was really loud in his ears, but it was easy for him to lay down and try and enjoy the ride. He popped his computer out and disabled the tracker first thing after getting settled on the semi.

By the time they stopped for gas, he’d decided he’d had enough of the howling wind. Tony wouldn’t think to look for him out here, anyways, out in the middle of the Catskills.

He walked into the gas station, still suited up, and grabbed a few snacks.

“You’re Spider-Man,” the attendant said incredulously.

“Yeah, I am,” Peter said, surprised. “You know about me out here?”

“You’re getting quite famous on the internet,” he said.

Peter handed over the cash for the snacks.

“Driving a lot of people out of Queens," he said.

The way he said it sent a shiver down Peter’s back. His spider sense started tingling, an itching feeling at the top of his shoulder blades.

“My goal isn’t to take anybody from their homes,” Peter said. “Just to get criminals to stop hurting people, you know?”

His spider sense tingled a lot more, itching down his back. That was the only warning he got.

“You didn’t succeed.”

The attendant reached his arm out and suddenly his arm transformed into a tentacle, surrounding his body and _squeezing_.

“You made it so I can never return home. And now, you won’t either.”

Peter was out before he knew what hit him.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

He woke up in an abandoned warehouse.

“My favorite,” he mumbled to himself. And just perfect timing. Right after Tony kicked him out of the compound and he’d lost all his friends there, before he’d been able to find any allies. He’d disabled the tracker and the protocols in the suit. Hell, he’d even told May he’d be gone for a few days, so this asshole had _time_.

What terrible fucking situation.

“You’re awake.” It was the gas station attendant, but his voice was silken and _wrong_. It’s dark, and even Peter’s supervision can’t make out a single thing.

“So are you,” Peter quipped. He tugged at his restraints experimentally.

The first thing he realizes is that whatever’s binding him is cold and slimy. The second thing he realizes is that it’s _alive_.

He pushes with all his strength, but they don’t budge. The third thing he realizes is that his restraints can withstand 5,000lbs of force.

When the lights flip on, the fourth thing he realizes is that what's binding him is attached to the gas station attendant.

His eyes are black, and in place of hands and feet and arms and legs he has huge black tentacles wrapping up around him and holding him in the air. Their texture was cold and smooth and covered in slime.

“I was getting tired of waiting.” His teeth were sharp and his eyes were black.

Peter knew, in that moment, he was screwed.

“What do you want with me?” Peter asked breathlessly. The tentacles squeezed tighter around his ribcage and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Two things. One, the host, the man I’ve taken…” he hissed sibilantly, “has his own grudge against you. You’re the reason he lost his job.”

_Oh, great, so of course he has to try to kill me._

“But me… I’m curious. You are unlike any other mutant I’ve seen. You are many orders of magnitude stronger than humanity. You can climb any surface and withstand falls of hundreds of feet. No other mutant comes close to your power. And I want it _for my own.”_

Peter didn’t know exactly how he intended to _make it his own,_ but he wasn’t eager to find out.

But no matter how hard he strained, it didn’t matter. The tentacles wrapped around him up to his neck weren’t letting go. He had no room to leverage, just straining to press his arms or legs out uselessly.

“Doesn’t seem like you need it,” Peter gasped. “You’re doing a good job all on your own.”

He scoffed. “You do not know how strong you are.”

Then, a tentacle burst through his side.

The pain was white-hot and sudden and he felt like he was going pass out and die where he hung in the air. But he didn’t, the white hot pain kept burning through him. He felt it sloshing around in his insides, licking organs with it's slimy chill and making an audible squelch as Peter heard his own organs shift.

“I will make you mine.”

 _That sounds bad -_ another tentacle burst through his side, and he didn’t have a chance to think about it anymore. He could feel them worming around inside him.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit -_

It was cold and slimy on the inside of his body, wrapping around organs and squeezing them and testing them like a probe.

He writhed involuntarily, they were so cold and _disgusting_ , he was being violated, he needed this thing _out of him -_

Just as quickly, the tentacles receded with a squelching noise. The wounds felt open and cold and slick but at least they weren't _inside_ him anymore.

Then they wrapped around all his limbs and _snapped_.

This wasn’t like when Black Widow broke his arm. Every bone in his arms and legs snapped clean in half, and he dangling like a rag doll. This pain was sharp and hot and blinding too, and he saw stars dancing in his vision. His limbs hung like snapped twigs.

“Now you won’t be going anywhere,” He said. He dropped Peter, and he passed out.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Peter woke up hours later where he’d been dropped. The gas station attendant was sitting across from him, this time thankfully with no tentacles.

He didn’t want to let it know he’d awoken.

“You’re back with us.”

Well, there goes that. _I need to learn how to be more sneaky_ , Peter thought.

Just as quickly, the tentacles emerged and held him up in the air. It held his arms and legs aloft, wrapping around him as if to inspect him.

His broken bones already felt better, but he knew he could barely move his limbs anymore. His body mended his bones without them being set, and he knew they’d need rebroken and reset before he’d be able to get anywhere.

That didn’t stop them screaming from being held in the air.

Tony said if he couldn’t fight, information was his next best advantage. Natasha said information was better than fighting in the first place.

“What do you want with me? How do you want to make me yours?” His mouth could barely form the words, a shiver passing through him.

He hissed. “This ‘gas station attendant,’ is mine. But he’s weak. I need a strong vessel in this world to be safe.”

So the tentacle thing wanted to possess him. _Cool_. “Safe to do what?”

“To do as I please.” Oh, that _so_ did not sound good.

Peter reassessed his options. Like the other day, he found them to be utterly zero. But he had to try something, or he’d die here. Better to try calling now then when he was much nearer death.

He didn't want to do this, he really didn't. But he had no other options. If he didn't, he would surely die here, possessed by some monster, his body being used to kill innocent people.

“Karen, call Happy Hogan,” Peter said quickly, bracing himself for the attack that would trigger.

But nothing happened.

“I disabled your suit’s communication,” He - _it_ \- said. “I would have disabled it all, but I’d like to use it when it is mine.”

The tentacle-thing’s possessiveness gave Peter chills.

“What do I call you, anyways?” Peter said.

It smiled a row of sharpened teeth. “You can call me Venom.”

Then a tentacle crawled up his side and down his throat.

Peter was choking now, couldn’t think about anything other than the cold and slimy tentacle cutting off his airflow, making dark spots dance across his vision. He felt it licking his windpipe, his lungs, felt himself jerk and choke instinctively against the thing worming down his throat...

Another tentacle pierced the hole in his side again, and he could feel them worming around inside of him, he felt disgusted, violated, burning white-hot pain and there was nothing he could do. The thing licked his organs, slick and slimy…

He didn’t notice when he passed out again.

* * *

The days got worse from there.

Peter didn’t know why it didn’t kill him. Or take over his body, or whatever.

It probed him, probed every hole in his body and some he didn’t have with slimy cold tentacles that somehow still brought white-hot pain with it. It wrapped around his limbs possessively.

He supposed it was trying to learn about him. Maybe it was trying to break him, so he’d be easier to control. Maybe it was trying to learn about how he worked.

Well, Peter knew he wasn’t seeing the outside of this warehouse ever again, but he could at least not let the monster that was torturing him use his body and powers. He could die keeping that from it.

When it realized he was awake, and forced itself down his throat one more time, Peter didn’t have any thoughts anymore.

It wrapped it's limbs around his arms, crawling up so slowly, applying more and more pressure until the bones slowly snapped, like it was trying to asses what he could stand up to. It wrapped around his fingers, slowly pulled them from his sockets and Peter could do nothing as he felt it slowly tear him apart, piece by agonizing piece.

It took his limbs first, breaking all the small bones in his legs and in his arms. He healed fast, though, and he knew that he could hobble away on his disfigured limbs if he needed to. If he ever got the chance.

It pulled his fingers apart piece by piece, testing each small bone, feeling the way his fingers went in and out of their sockets. It tested his toes, pulling them out of the joints and bending them around like a toy.

One day, when he tried to ask it more questions, a tentacle pierced his throat. It wormed around his neck and Peter swore he could feel it constrict around his esophagus and _squeeze_ and suddenly Peter wasn't able to talk anymore, wasn't able to feel anything except choking.

Peter never got a chance to think. Anytime he was awake it was probing him, pulling at him, making him scream, driving all the thoughts out of his mind. He wasn't able to think when he felt _Venom_ worming around _inside_ him.

Peter didn't let himself think. Natasha taught him that when you know pain is coming, the worst thing you can do is dwell on it. You have to just focus on what's in the now, and not what's coming in the future.

When Venom's slimy tentacle reached up and cradled his heart, ran it's cold edge along his beating heart and pressed it gingerly, Peter didn't let himself think.

But Venom didn't pierce Peter's heart, somehow knowing that not even Peter could come back for that.

* * *

 

**Michelle Jones**

MJ had had enough.

When class let out, she grabbed Ned from the hallways and dragged him into a janitor’s closet.

“MJ, we’re gonna be late -“

“Can it, Ned. Where’s Peter?”

Ned looked around wildly. “He’s out sick.”

“Cut the crap, Ned. I know he’s Spider-Man. Where is he?”

Ned’s eyes bugged out at her. “What?”

“He’s been gone a _week_ , Ned.”

Ned swallowed. “He told us he’d only be gone for a few days.”

“You’re really easy to break, you know that?”

“Not true. When I got caught helping him in the computer lab once, I told them I was watching porn instead. They were so offended they didn’t notice all the code on the computer screens.”

MJ let go of ned, leaving them standing uselessly in the janitor’s closet.

“Is he all right?” MJ said, more softly.

Ned looked down. “I don’t know. May just said he was taking a break, that he and Tony got in a fight. But she sounded really upset about it.”

“So he’s supposed to be gone?” She said.

Ned nodded. “Not this long, though. We’re both worried.”

“That makes three of us.”

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

Tony had been studiously avoiding checking up on Peter ever since he sent him away.

For some reason, the thought of doing so was making him feel profoundly ashamed. Most of the time the kid was fine anyways, so he just let him go on his way. He’d call if he really needed anything, and ever since Vulture, they knew to listen.

So it was a surprise when he got a call from May Parker.

His phone rang, and he answered instantly. “Tony Stark.”

 _“What did you say to him!?”_ She screamed.

He had no idea how she got his number, but he supposed it didn’t matter now.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to the man in his office as he stepped out. He wasn’t tremendously important, at least to a billionaire, anyways.

 _“What the hell did you say to my nephew?”_ She nearly growled.

Tony’s face flushed. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit, it wasn’t good. I lost my temper -“

_“He’s missing.”_

Tony blanched. “What?”

 _“He’s missing, Stark. He ran off for a few days, convinced you were going to take his suit, and it’s been a week and a half since I last saw him. I can’t exactly put out a missing persons report because he’s_ Spider-Man - _”_ May said this mockingly, in a tone which clearly said _I blame you_ _“-so I am making this your personal problem.”_

Tony’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I had no idea. I’m getting right on it. Right now. We’ll find him, and I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

_“He thought you hated him.”_

Tony’s heart dropped a little further.

 _“Make this right.”_ Then she hung up on him.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hung up on. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he deserved it so thoroughly.

He’d studiously avoided thinking about what he’d said. To an emotionally vulnerable fifteen year old, no less.

He didn’t reach out to him because he figured Peter was still seething. At least, that’s what he told himself. He would have been seething, definitely would have been at that age. But Peter was not Tony. Peter was a lot better than Tony.

He figured Happy was texting him, or maybe Nat, or he didn’t know what. He thought some time would do them both good.

He should’ve listened to Rogers when he said the boy was crying.

He shot off a text to the team.

> Iron Man: Spider-man’s missing. Last known location is in Queens a week and a half ago.
> 
> Cap: Wasn’t that when you guys fought?

Damnit, Rogers.

> Black Widow: You guys had a fight?
> 
> Cap: Yeah, it was quite a blowout.
> 
> Black Widow: _he’s 15_
> 
> Iron Man: So I’ve heard. But he’s missing. And for-real missing, not runaway teen missing. His guardian said he told them he’d be gone for 2 or 3 days and it’s been 11.
> 
> Banner: When we find him you’re gonna have some explaining to do

Tony rubbed his face. “Scan the city for Peter Parker or Spider-Man, facial recognition.”

“Yes sir,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said smoothly.

A couple minutes went by.

“Last known sighting, 10 days ago.”

Sure enough, Spider-Man was swinging along a light pole outside the city and landed on a semi truck headed upstate. He had a hefty looking backpack strapped to him.

Well, it could be worse. He didn’t look like he was in any danger or pain. For all Tony knew, he just got himself stranded because he broke his web shooters or something. Best to find him, in any case.

“Track that truck,” Tony said. “Where did it go?”

“It took a route up 84, then to 87, making a stop in Albany and then continuing on. It reached it’s destination in Syracuse the next day.”

“And Spider-Man wasn’t spotted at all along the route?”

“Negative.”

Tony groaned. “Scan the internet for Spider-Man mentions.”

This time, Tony got lucky. A photo of spider-man was shot at a gas station in Kingston, just outside the Catskills. He shot off a text.

> Iron Man: Last seen in Kingston, outside the Catskills.
> 
> Cap: That’s an awful long way for a messed up teen to run.

Tony looked at the photo. He was in full suit and appeared to be arguing with someone at the gas station counter.

There was nothing specifically wrong with the photo, but it gave Tony a bad feeling.

> Cap: I know you’re busy, I’ll go take a look. Got an address for me?

Tony shot him the address over text.

> Iron Man: Take the quinjet.

* * *

Two hours later.

> Cap: Took a look over the station. Nothing seems wrong, but the attendant in the photo isn’t there anymore. Another attendant said he disappeared about a week ago.
> 
> Iron Man: Shit
> 
> Cap: Eddie Brock, run that through FRIDAY

Tony does, and what he gets back alarms him.

> Iron Man: Eddie Brock, journalist. Apparently there was a serial killer running around Queens, and he accused the wrong guy. Spidey caught the right guy, and he was fired for incompetence.
> 
> Nat: That sounds life-ruining, but not like enough for him to launch a revenge-scheme
> 
> Iron Man: Clearly it is
> 
> Cap: I’m coming back with the quinjet and picking up anyone who wants in
> 
> Nat: Me
> 
> Clint: Me
> 
> Wanda: What the hell, me too

Everyone knew that where Wanda went, there went Vision as well. Those two didn’t get out of the compound often.

> Cap: He’s a well-liked kid
> 
> Nat: We’d do the same for any of us
> 
> Cap: But not with so little to go on, I don’t think

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. At least this was getting taken care of.

At least no one was yelling at him. Because this was so clearly his fault. He should have known not to say stuff like that to a _fucking teen_ and then not explain himself. For all he knew, Peter thought Tony was exiling him.

> Iron Man: Last place Brock was seen was pulling out of the gas station. I’ll meet you guys there.

The back of the gas staton driveway was covered in blood.

“And nobody here noticed this?” Steve said.

Natasha shrugged. “Probably thought a mugging went wrong. Happens in high crime areas.”

Unfortunately, the blood didn’t give them a direction. And since Peter was last sighted here 9 days ago, it was too long to try and follow tracks.

“Fuck,” Tony said.

“You checked all the cameras?” Steve said

“And all the abandoned buildings in the area?” Banner said

“And scanned for his face?” Natasha said

“Yes,” he snapped.

“Let’s start a grid search,” Cap suggested gently.

Tony kicked his blasters on and lifted off. “You don’t need to tell me.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to search. Except for a few abandoned cabins, everything was open mountainside. Lifeform scans revealed a lot of wildlife, but no humans.

They searched a long time, but eventually there was no more to search. There was nothing more to do.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

When he woke up again, his mask was gone. It was just his super-vision blinking in the darkness of the warehouse, spider senses kicked into overdrive.

Without his lenses, he could see the dirt walls. Water seeped off the walls and it had no windows, making Peter think it was below ground level. The cold floor was evidence in favor of this theory.

His spider sense went off like a thousand alarm bells. It was back.

It’s body was slime, making a sick sloshing as the tentacles probed the corners of the cold warehouse.

Cold and alone in this pit, he’d surely die here.

It didn’t talk as the tentacles circled his feet. Of all the things to break, Peter could cope with that, right? That wouldn’t hurt so bad.

But they might never heal right. Without his feet, he couldn’t climb. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t _walk_.

He tried to remember what Black Widow said about being held hostage, but they hadn’t covered it yet. It had only been a short conversation. _Stay calm_ , she said. _Pain hurts three times - the fear before, the pain during, and the suffering afterwards. If you don’t fear it and you don’t dwell on it, the pain only has to come once._

As the wet cold tentacles snaked up around his feet, he did his best to breathe evenly and not be afraid. The pain wasn’t here now, it was just this cold, and that’s all, just the cold wet thing, he could deal with that -

The cold wet thing squeezed, and Peter’s foot crunched like a crushed potato chip.

“Why are you doing this?!” He screamed.

The answer was low. “To learn.”

The tentacle crawled between his toes on the other foot, squeezing and testing. _Keep him talking,_ Peter thought frantically. _Get information. Keep him distracted._

“Learn what?” Peter said, voice tight.

“The limits of this body.” Another crunch.

Peter screamed, bending over and huffing. He blinked back desperate tears.

“This body isn’t going to last long if you keep this up,” Peter said, voice a whisper.

It laughed. Venom laughed, something quiet and sinister. “I think this body is stronger than you know.”

As it broke each bone in turn, he thought he was sick of people saying that.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

Tony couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he’d seen Peter.

His strength-reinforced suit escorted him out. Tony had said _Get Out_ (the memory made him flinch) and F.R.I.D.A.Y. assessed Peter’s strength and automatically selected a suit to escort him out. And F.R.I.D.A.Y didn’t know that Peter couldn’t fly, or that he didn’t come in his own car. F.R.I.D.A.Y escorted him to the parking lot just like she did everyone else.

But Peter wouldn’t know any of that. Peter only knew that for some reason, the much bigger suit had come and had left him by the side of the road with no ride home.

Tony punched the wall.

He made sure to work out regularly. As a part of the Avengers, it was important that he be at least somewhat capable in hand to hand combat when without his suit. So when he punched the wall, he punched hard enough to bloody his knuckles.

Swearing, retracting his hand, he recalled something Steve had said long ago about needing to learn how to control his temper.

Tony was less gracious; he said to himself that he needed to stop acting like a fucking child.

“You are injured, Mr. Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. “Do you need me to find medical assistance?”

“No,” Tony barked, going to the bathroom to run his hands under the water. “I’ll be fine.”

There was nothing Tony could do. One of the world’s most powerful men (perhaps _the_ most powerful), and all he could do was run his hands under the sink and hope. Hope that the algorithms searching for Peter found something, hope that the Avenger’s search came to something, hope that he turned up.

It didn’t escape Tony’s notice that it had been long enough for him to be anywhere in the world by now.

The thought made Tony want to punch a wall again. But all that happened was Tony screwed his eyes shut and bent down slowly until his forehead touched the cool glass of the bathroom mirror.

“Fuck,” he said tightly.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Maybe Venom was right, and this body was stronger than he knew.

Somehow, despite having every bone in hid body broken, healing into bent and crooked shapes in the dark, his heart kept beating. His limbs kept working. His throat stayed whole despite how hard he screamed. He didn’t get an infection, barely even had trouble sleeping, never even passed out for blessed relief. His super-senses felt up every whisper-light movement of the creature that was doing this to him.

Peter wished he didn’t have these powers. If he was never bit by that spider, he would be at home with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He could be dating MJ. He could be studying, watching Star Wars with Ned, eating the Paella May tried to make even though it tasted way too oily and fatty.

He was bit by that spider, and as punishment for sneaking away to chase it, he was going to die in this warehouse, tortured to death by something cold and inhuman, forced by these powers to feel it _all_.

* * *

 

It never ended. Venom needed no rest for sleep, needed no breaks for his own life, needed no food or water. Venom knew no human mercy, had no concept of his pleas. Venom wanted no information, there was nothing Peter could offer him to get him to stop.

Venom didn’t care about his suffering. He never responded to Peter’s cries, speaking only like a scientist gathering analytical information.

* * *

 

He hadn’t been fed in days. Or weeks, maybe. He had truly lost touch with how long it had been.

At first, Peter was hungry, but after a few days the hunger gave way to a sort of emptiness that he had never felt before, his body deep and hollow. It didn’t hurt, though, so he didn’t complain. He was just empty.

It had to be weeks, because even normal people could survive a month without food. How long could Spider-Man survive? He’d never gone without food for more than a day or two before, before and after the spider bite, so he couldn’t say. With his luck, it was probably a year or more.

He’d lost touch with reality, too. True consciousness was a memory, Peter’s awareness fading in and out like he’d been awake too long. He hadn’t felt this since before the spider’s bite, and it felt like he’d pulled an all nighter, every night, for a week.

He blinked dizzily. He didn’t want to return to reality. The cold waited there for him, wrapping around his waist and making him remember just how long it had been since he’d eaten. It was fine that he laid here and the world spun around him, really.

 _Focus on the now_ , he told himself like a mantra. The slimy limb twisted around his stomach. _Don’t be afraid. The pain only comes once_.

It wasn’t pain he felt when the tentacle wormed it’s way into a still open wound. It was a slimy sense of violation, an urge to throw up what little bile was in his stomach -

And when the cold thing lurched in his abdomen, he did, heaving hot stomach acid all over himself where it held him down on the ground. He tipped his head back, not having the heart to care.

Whatever it is, it still only has to come once.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

For the first time, Peter woke up alone.

The first thing Peter did before he even thought about escape was try to set his limbs. He'd never complete an escape attempt if he didn't have his limbs.

His fingers and toes were easy enough to set (he bit down on his tongue so that he didn't cry out), but he couldn't do anything about his arms or legs. They were so deformed that he'd have to rebreak them, and he knew that the pain from that would be severe enough that he wouldn't have any time to escape. He wouldn't have time to heal, either, because Venom would surely be back to reverse the progress.

Peter stood up, wobbly on his misaligned legs, but soldiered on. Each step was a sharp jolt of pain, but compared to his new normal, it barely registered.

_Remember what Natasha said. Don't focus on the future. Focus on now. What do you have to do now?_

_I have to find communication. A phone, or an exit so I can run somewhere that has a phone._

Peter found a set of stairs, and stumbled up them. He was greeted with the sight of a moonlit alley. He looked up at the sky and saw Manhattan. Natasha's advice rang in his head. _Find location markers so you can inform allies of your position._

His spider-vision enabled him to see the street signs in the dark. 104th and Fritz.

His eyes landed on a payphone, and he thanked God for putting it there and Natasha for teaching him he should always memorize phone numbers.

Out of habit, the first phone he tried was Happy.

_“This is Happy Hogan, if you want me to get back to you please leave a message.” Beeeeep -_

“Happy, it’s Peter, please, please, I need help, I’m in an alley off of 104th and Fritz, I’m sorry to call you like this, please just come help -“ Peter cut the message off, knowing he needed to call someone else with what little time he had.

He couldn’t call Aunt May or Ned, because even if he got through all they could do was try to call other people as well.

He dialed Steve’s number.

Straight to voicemail. _“This is Captain America. I’m thrilled you called, please leave a message at the tone.”_

Of course. Steve gives his number out to everyone because he thinks it adds a personal touch, and as a result he gets so many calls that he ends up ignoring most of them, especially with ones with unknown numbers. Like this payphone.

“Steve, I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I need help.” Peter looked around the alley wildly. His spider sense was pounding in his head, ice water down his neck and back. “I’m in an alley off of 104th and Fritz. I’m gonna try calling someone else, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Peter gripped the phone. He’d be back any second.

He had only one more person to call.

He was exactly what Mr. Stark said he was. Childish, irresponsible, misunderstanding situations and getting himself into shit he shouldn’t. He wanted to prove to Tony he wouldn’t get himself into things he couldn’t get out of.

But he also didn’t want to die here in this alley. He hoped that as angry as Mr. Stark was, he wouldn’t want him _dead_ either. He hoped Mr. Stark would care if he lived or died enough to send a suit, maybe, at least. Right?

Peter took a shaky breath. He dialed Mr. Stark’s number.

_“Tony Stark.”_

“Mr. Stark!” Peter gasped.

Mr. Stark’s voice sounded hollow. _“Peter?”_

“Mr. Stark, please, I need your help.”

 _“Where are you?”_ Mr. Stark sounded like he was running. Did he interrupt Mr. Stark’s exercise?

“Look, I’m so sorry to call, but -“

Peter heard the slimy noise around the corner. Peter’s limbs went cold.

 _“Peter,_ where are you _?”_

“It’s back.”

_“Where are you?”_

_Tell him, Peter, it’s your last chance_. “An alley… off of - off of 104th and Fritz.”

 _“I’m coming kid, just hold on, all right?”_ Tony started pleading on the phone. _“I’m getting in the suit and coming right there -“_

The line died as Venom smashed the payphone.

"I had something to deal with," he said in a hiss. "You should not have escaped."

Before him, Venom transformed. The blackness from his tentacles reached up into his eyes, which turned white. From out between his lengthening teeth flicked a long, pink tongue like a serpent.

Peter backed up into a gate. He made a move to jump, but he knew as soon as he coiled that his deformed legs weren't going to get him far enough away.

He tried anyway. He had to. He wasn’t going to die and leave May alone.

He jumped, and in the middle of his arc, Venom attacked. A tentacle pierced his abdomen. He hung in midair, impaled.

"But I won't run from your little friends," Venom hissed as it drew closer to him. "The time for running is over. I'm going to take what is mine."

The tentacles were creeping up his sides, too slowly, completely surrounding him. They covered him from head to toe, he couldn't breathe, he was choking on their slime, they were so cold and dark and Peter couldn’t see and he was choking, he was _dying_ -

Then there was nothing.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

It was an awfully boring Gala. It was fine, as Galas go, and Tony Stark’s life was an endless march of Galas and meetings and awards and events. He could complain about the constantly booked schedule, but the fact of the matter was that this is what billionaires do for a living and he was good at it.

But, he needed a moment sometimes. Lately, more than sometimes. And after a lifetime of being a billionaire, he learned he could take them whenever he wanted, which is how he ended up standing in the hallway alone drinking champagne.

He needed a moment to think about the kid.

 _Use his name,_ Tony scolded himself.

Peter. Peter Parker, wherever he was, alone and probably hurt, maybe _dead_ -

When a call came in, he answered it without looking. He didn’t just give his number out to anyone, so he always answered when he did get a call.

“Tony Stark.”

 _“Mr. Stark!”_ Peter gasped. His voice was wet and thick and sounded like _blood_.

Tony’s heart hammered out of his chest. “Peter?”

 _“Mr. Stark, please, I need your help.”_ he said, voice gurgling.

Tony started running towards the door, towards his _suit_. “Where are you?”

 _“Look, I’m so sorry to call, but -“_ Something was wrong, very wrong (Peter’s voice was wet and thick) and the kid was trying to apologize _to him_?

But then Peter stopped talking altogether.

“Peter, _where are you_?” Tony said urgently.

 _“It’s back,”_ Peter said, voice cold. It sent chills down Tony’s spine.

Tony’s feet pounded down the stairs. “ _Where are you?_ ”

 _“An alley… off of - off of 104th and Fritz.”_ Tony didn’t have any idea where that was, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. would.

“I’m coming kid, just hold on, all right?” Tony said. “I’m getting in the suit and coming right there -“

There was a crashing noise, and then the line went dead.

“Damnit!” Tony said as he stepped in the suit and took off. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., set a course to 104th and Fritz.”

“Would you like the location in Queens, in Manhattan, or the Bronx?”

Tony swore under his breath. He didn’t have time to search all those locations. “Get Cap on the phone.”

Rogers picked up after one ring. “What do you need?”

“Peter called. He gave me an address, 104th and Fritz. I’m headed to the one in Manhattan, I need you to get two people to the Queens and Bronx locations ASAP.”

“On it. I’ll set up a line in a minute.” The call dropped as Cap made it happen.

Tony just hoped it would happen soon enough.

* * *

The six minute flight felt like it took forever. Cap had the line set up in a couple minutes, so he was with the team as he touched down. He'd been able to get Wanda and Natasha at short notice.

Tony cursed the fact that the team was broken and now they didn't have resources.

When he saw the payphone, Tony’s heart stopped.

“Abort searching the other two locations,” he said. “Forget them. Center on mine.”

 _“You find something?”_ Steve asked.

There was blood, a trail leading to the payphone. The payphone had been reduced to a crumpled heap. He could see blood on what used to be the handset.

Below the payphone was a puddle.

“Yeah. Blood,” Tony tried not to choke, “and a lot of it.”

“He has a healing factor,” Steve said. “So that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, right?”

Tony didn’t say anything in response.

Out of the darkness stepped Peter.

"Peter!" Tony exclaimed, not bothering to hide his identity out of sheer relief.

"Not anymore," Peter said.

Tony’s stomach dropped. His voice was wrong, too low, too _dangerous_.

"Spidey?" Natasha asked, jumping out of nowhere with Steve and Wanda.

Peter took another step out of the darkness, and his eyes were black.

“Shit,” Tony said. "That can't be good."

Peter flexed his arms experimentally. _“This body is powerful,”_ he said. It was Peter’s voice but sounded nothing like him, voice growling and resonating with something otherworldly. Something was controlling Peter.

“You guys know the drill, capture tactics, non-lethal only,” Tony said into the headset.

The thing controlling Peter punched the ground. It felt like an earthquake, and the ground rumbled.

“And don’t let it hit you,” Tony added.

“ _This body is strong,”_ Venom hissed. “ _This body will do_.”

“Sorry, this body is spoken for,” Tony said. He fired a stun blaster from his suit.

Peter jumped out of the way easily. Tony didn't miss the way he hobbled on legs that had clearly been broken and healed without being set.

"Peter's injured," Cap said.

Natasha responded. "We can use that to our advantage. Spidey's gonna need the legs rebroken anyways, right?"

She shot a stun disk at the Peter-monster and missed.

It stopped dead, and held up it's arms. Suddenly, tentacles materialized and reached out of his arms like giant hands.

"Holy shit," Wanda said. Captain America didn't even say language.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

It was dark.

It was cold, and dark, and empty here. He was entirely alone.

He failed.

He died.

He could feel his mouth moving, but he didn’t know what he was saying. He couldn’t hear the words. Dead people don’t talk, though, right?

He felt his body jumping, swinging, but he couldn’t control it. The feeling would have made his heart hammer in his chest, if it could.

He tried to flex his fingers on his own, but nothing happened.

He realized he wasn't dead. Or rather, at least his body wasn't. His body was still alive, moving without his permission.

Peter was trapped in icy darkness. Icy, slimy, empty darkness. _Venom_.

He remembered the black goo. _That_ was Venom, not the man he had been.. controlling? Possessing?

And now Venom was _inside_ him.

He felt his body swinging, punching, dodging side to side. He remembered calling Tony.

 _“I’m getting in the suit and coming right there -“_ Tony said.

He must be fighting the Avengers. With Venom holding him hostage, they’d never win.

He strained against his own muscles, but nothing gave. It was just him trapped in his own mind, trying in vain to get his body to _stop fighting_.

 _The boy is fighting_ , he felt his mouth say. _But he won’t win_.

Vemon could… Venom could _feel_ him fighting. The idea filled him with slimy dread.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

"The boy is fighting," it said in Peter's voice. "But he won't win."

"At least we know he's alive in there somewhere!" Steve yelled, flinging his shield at the tentacles.

Three sliced off of it's hand, and it screamed. But almost immediately they began to regrow, and he focused on Cap.

"What is this thing?!" Natasha yelled. She shot at it, knowing to keep her distance from a giant tentacle monster, but it grabbed her projectiles out of the air and broke them.

Wanda was shooting red energy at it - Tony didn't know what it was supposed to do - but somehow it was able to dodge and deflect it back at her, swinging black tentacles wildly.

"Wanda, can you get through to him?" Natasha yelled. "It said he's fighting, maybe you can help."

"Good idea," she said, stopping behind the team. Captain fell into position to defend her while she closed her eyes.

She threw both her hands towards him, and red electric energy shot out of her fingertips.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Suddenly something sharp and electric pierced through him, and he could _see_.

“Spider-Man!” The Scarlet Witch shouted at him. She was surrounded by rubble, her hands held up, a red field of energy between him and her. “You must fight him!”

Peter was about to shout back “ _how_ ,” but just as suddenly his world closed down again. He was trapped in the darkness.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

For a moment, the blackness receded like oil and water. The tentacles retracted into nowhere. His eyes cleared to blue.

Tony could see the scared fifteen year old looking back at Wanda.

Just as suddenly, the blackness crashed down. The tentacles reappeared and crashed at his sides, causing the ground to rumble.

"You will not win so easily, _witch_ ," It said.

"Keep fighting, Peter!" Tony yelled, blasting a stun shot at it. It took the blow, seemingly absorbing it, and continued fighting.

"Is that his real name?" Wanda said. “Peter?”

"Use it, he likes it better," Tony said. Another absorbed blast. "It'll get through to him."

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

It was an absolute darkness. He could hear a pin drop from a mile away.

If there were even anything to hear.

He kept fighting, fighting with all he had, but it was no use. The harder he fought, the heavier his muscles got, the less they bent to his will. His body felt cold and diseased, like it belonged to Venom instead of him.

He felt his body being thrown against a wall. But instead of falling, he was held there.

He could hear someone shouting, too distant to make out yet so very close. He could feel their breath on his face.

It was Tony.

 _I’m sorry, Tony_ , Peter thought.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

Suddenly, the battle took a turn.

It looked like the monster was stumbling. It didn't reach out to catch shots anymore, only just barely dodged Cap's shield and Nat's flying disks.

"It's weakening," Wanda said. "Peter is winning."

"Give it all you got, because he definitely is," Tony said. "Now!"

Tony's disabling blast finally got traction, and it was blown into a wall in the warehouse. Natasha threw some kind of silver balls that exploded into metal handcuffs, trapping him against the wall. Wanda conjured a wall around it.

"I'm going to try to get through to him again," Wanda said. "Hold him down."

Captain shot to one side and Tony the other, holding it's arms and legs down, _Peter's_ arms down.

Peter started bucking against the restraints weakly. Tony swallowed down bile when he saw the sick angle of his arms and legs.

Tony could feel tears welling in his eyes. "Peter, you've got to fight!" He yelled. "You've got to throw it out!"

Peter started to moan.

"Wanda, what's happening?" Steve asked.

"He's fighting it, it's losing," she said. Her face was pinched in concentration. "It's weakening for some reason, I don't know." She strengthened the field of energy.

A scream tore from his throat, bloodcurdling with nothing held back.

Tony panicked. ”Wanda?!”

"He's fighting harder, he's doing better," Wanda tried to reassure him without losing focus. Her fingers flexed, her eyebrows pinched.

"Let her work," Natasha said.

"That's it, Peter," Tony said brokenly, turning to Peter. "You've got this."

At that moment, Peter's eyes opened, a clear blue. He started bucking against the restraints, eyes roving around wildly unseeing, still screaming.

"Is it out yet?" Steve asked uncertainly. Peter was still screaming.

Her fingers flexed hard. "Almost."

Tony turned to Peter just as Peter fixed his agonized eyes on him.

“You can do this Peter, do you hear me?” Tony said, putting his hand on Peter's chest.

He looked like he was struggling to speak through his mouth full of screams. Tony forcibly denied the feeling in his chest like his heart was breaking. He could deal with that later.

"The heat!” He screamed. “Karen, heaters up!”

Tony heard the AI in his headset. “Peter, the heaters are already operating at maximum. Any higher temperature could be dangerous.”

Tony didn't know why Peter wanted the heaters above maximum, but in this moment he trusted him.

“Override Protocol: Iron God. Turn the heaters up," Tony said.

Karen responded, “Turning the heaters up.” Nobody mocked him for his override protocol name. He chose it because he expected to only have to use it to scold Peter. Never like this.

As soon as the heaters kicked in, Peter's screaming increased in pitch, an agonized tearing sound from his throat that never ended.

Wanda closed her eyes, tears leaking out. "Almost -"

Peter tipped his head to the sky, still screaming unevenly, voice losing energy, sounding like he was breaking down.

Tony’s chest constricted. It sounded like Peter was losing.

His screams turned into a choking noise as black ooze poured from his mouth, out of his skin, slinking across the ground.

The Avengers jumped back, training their lethal weapons on the pile. But instead of attacking, it sank into the ground and disappeared.

Then, they heard Peter’s broken voice.

"Karen, heaters off, cooling please,” he said, and collapsed.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

_Peter, you’ve got to fight. You’ve got to throw it out._

That electric feeling shot through him again, but he couldn’t see. The cold feeling of dread in his body ( _Venom_ ) curled up inside him.

Suddenly his skin felt very warm.

A second later, it felt like he was being torn in two.

Peter felt his mouth open in a scream.

_That’s it, Peter, you've got this._

Peter felt like he was being torn in two, but Venom felt it too, both of them on fire from his super-sensitive nerves. And after all he’d went through, he was far better at operating in pain than Venom.

He _pushed_ , and the terrible cold inside of him that was Venom felt weaker. He pushed and he felt his fingers flex under his own control, felt his chest heave a breath that was _his_.

Peter opened his eyes and saw the Scarlet Witch in front of him, Captain America holding one arm down and Iron Man the other. His vision was blurry, his chest heaving, unable to take a breath.

He flexed his abdomen, curling against the pain, but bucked against the restraints at his arms and legs. Steve and Tony were holding him down.

“Is it out yet?” Steve asked Wanda.

Her face was pinched in concentration. “Almost.”

It felt like his insides were shredding. The cold slime was holding on inside his body like he just was not a few minutes ago.

“You can do this Peter, do you hear me?” Tony said, mask looking right at him.

Peter worked to control his mouth. “The heat!” He screamed. He hoped the slashed and torn mask was still working. “Karen, heaters up!”

“Peter, the heaters are already operating at maximum. Any higher temperature could be dangerous.”

Nothing was more dangerous than the feeling of knowing something cold and alien and terrible was controlling his body.

Peter heard Tony’s voice. “Override Protocol: Iron God. Turn the heaters up.”

“Turning the heaters up.”

Peter knew the heaters couldn’t be that hot, but he felt Venom’s pain as he opened his mouth to scream again.

He blinked, and he didn’t see Wanda, or Steve, or Tony anymore. He just saw white. He felt pure agony.

But just as quickly, it was over. The cold slime was forcing it’s way out of his skin, out of his mouth.

As soon as it was out, Peter said “Karen, heaters off, cooling please,” and collapsed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fun adventures of Tony Stork and Peter Man continue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part, but I haven’t finished writing it yet. The story isn’t complete.

**Peter Parker**

The first thing Peter realized was that he wasn't in pain.

He was somewhere soft, warm and dry. The thought brought him immense comfort and pleasure, although he didn't fully remember why. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to lay here in the silence.

But he heard shuffling at the edges of his hearing.

"Hey, you awake?" A voice whispered.

No, he didn't want a voice. He pressed back into the covers. He wanted to _please just be left alone._

"It's okay," the voice said. Suddenly something was touching his hand and he didn't want that, he tried to pull his hand away but he couldn't, he was trapped again!

The voice spoke, and there were more voices all around him. He tried to move but nothing obeyed him, he remembered _his body wouldn’t obey him before_ ,

Suddenly, he knew no more.

* * *

The first thing Peter realized was that he wasn't in pain.

He didn't remember waking up before.

He was somewhere soft, warm and dry. The thought brought him immense comfort and pleasure, although he didn't fully remember why. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to lay here in the silence.

But he heard voices at the edges of his hearing.

"It's been a week -"

"There's no telling when he will wake up. There isn't exactly medical precedent for this sort of thing."

He must be in the hospital. Peter didn't remember why he was here. His body told him he didn't want to remember. He shuddered. He heard the beeping on his heart rate monitor elevate.

"Is he all right?"

"Perfectly natural, Mr. Stark. He's probably dreaming."

_Mr. Stark is here._

The heart rate monitor beeping elevated further. Tony hated him. _Tony kicked him out_. Why is he here in the hospital room?

"Patient is getting agitated. Can we give him more diazepam yet?"

"Last dose was only three hours ago, but his healing factor probably means he's metabolized it by now," Tony said.

There was a pause, and then a cold feeling in his IV. He was flooded with a surreal sense of calm that only served to worry him more.

"Rest, Peter," Tony said. "Just rest."

He didn't know if he was dreaming, but if he was, he didn't mind.

* * *

The first thing Peter realized was that he wasn't in pain. He remembered waking up before, remembered hearing Tony Stark's voice.

He strained his hearing, but this time he couldn't hear anything except the breathing of someone in the room. He didn't want to wake up until he knew who.

He didn't have to wait long, though, because the door opened.

"Aren't you going to leave this room?" said Black Widow.

"Not until he wakes up," Tony Stark replied.

_It was Tony._

Black Widow sighed. "You need to shower. And run your company."

"I don't need to shower, and I have Pepper for the company."

Black Widow sat down. "You know what they said. That he might never wake up."

But Peter did wake up. He was on the edge of wakefulness right now, confused and unsure.

His heart rate monitor beeped faster. They paused for a moment.

"Then I might never leave this room."

"Even his Aunt goes home to shower and sleep sometimes."

"I'm obsessive. You know that."

Why was Tony here? What did he want? Did he want to yell at Peter again for messing around with things he didn't understand?

His heart rate monitor beeped faster.

A hand landed on his, and he reacted instinctively. He pulled his hand away, gasping as it aggravated his injuries, opening his eyes reactively.

He was greeted to Tony's face about six inches from his. He pressed further into the bed and flung his arms out in front of him.

Tony backed up. His mouth was moving and he was talking fast but Peter couldn’t hear, his heart was hammering in his chest.

He crawled backwards on the bed but his legs wouldn’t co-operate, _why couldn’t he move his legs?_

It rushed back to him, _the tentacles, the sickening crunch of his feet folding -_

More people rushed in the room, Tony was talking to them now, telling them to _stay back_ , and Peter realized he was on his broken legs backed in the corner of the room holding his broken arms up as if to fight. To defend himself.

Except his arms weren’t so broken anymore. Or his legs. They were weak, but they held him up.

“Peter, it’s okay,” Tony said. “Peter, you’re safe.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to him. Safe from what? Why was he here?

“You told me to get out,” Peter said, eyes watering. _Why was he crying? Why was he so scared of these nurses? Why was he in Tony’s compound?_

“You need to breathe,” Tony said, looking torn. “You ripped out your IV and we can’t give you anything to help you calm down unless you let us -“

“No drugs, Peter rambled. “Nothing inside me,” _the cold and wet feeling of something inside him -_

Tony was speaking again, but he couldn’t hear. Peter wished desperately that he could pass out and this could be over. He pressed into his corner further, gripped at web shooters only to find they weren’t there.

Peter blinked and Tony was suddenly closer and everyone else was gone. Peter jerked his arms up instinctively and Tony backed off.

“Why am I here?” Peter demanded shakily.

He felt his legs buckle under him and thought maybe he wasn’t meant to be out of bed yet. He leaned against the wall for support.

He blinked again and Tony’s words were swimming in his head. He had to stay awake, his heart was pounding and he had to _get away -_

But as he slid down the wall, he found that he stay awake. As bodies closed down around him, he curled up and knew no more.

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

Tony was sitting half awake on the guest bench of the room when Nat came in.

"Aren't you going to leave this room?" Nat said.

"Not until he wakes up.”

Nat huffed. "You need to shower. And run your company."

"I don't need to shower, and I have Pepper for the company,” he said promptly.

She sat down next to him, looking at him with that kind of gentle sympathy he hated. "You know what they said. That he might never wake up."

At that moment, Peter’s heart rate picked up. They both looked at it hopefully, but nothing happened.

 _Just dreaming_ , Tony thought brokenly. _Dreaming of nothing good._

They still didn’t know what happened. They just know Peter was possessed by the thing, whatever it was, and then he collapsed.

When he was admitted, there wasn’t a bone on his body that wasn’t fractured or broken clean. He had gaping wounds, any one of which would have killed a normal man. He was comatose, nearly dead.

After a beat, Tony said “Then I might never leave this room."

"Even his Aunt goes home to shower and sleep sometimes,” she said dryly.

"I'm obsessive. You know that."

Peter’s heart monitor picked up again, and it was quite fast.

Tony got up and went to his side. Occasionally when he held Peter’s hand he got agitated and the nurses came and gave him drugs to calm him down, but most times when he touched Peter he seemed comforted by the gesture.

But as Tony took Peter’s hand in his, something different happened.

Peter jerked his hand backward and scooted backward on the bed, eyes still closed.

Tony leaned forward, hoping to push him back into the center of the bed, when Peter’s eyes flew open and he _pushed_ Tony away, weak for Peter but still enough to send Tony stumbling backwards.

“Peter!” Tony said.

Before Tony could get another word out Peter had tipped himself out of bed and pushed against the back wall, arms up as if defending himself. He was shaking and looked like he was about to fall over.

“Hey!” Tony said. “What’s going on?”

“He doesn’t look lucid,” Natasha said, standing behind Tony.

Peter’s eyes roved around the room wildly, and Tony didn’t know what he was looking for.

Nurses rushed in the room, but Natasha kept them to the back. Peter had yanked his IV out, and if he was combative he presented a threat to them.

“Peter, it’s okay,” Tony said, his voice shaky and unstable. “Peter, you’re safe.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to him, and Tony saw confusion and pain. He was hyperventilating, chest rising and falling too fast.

“You told me to get out,” Peter said, his voice shaking. His eyes watered.

Tony felt like he’d been kicked in the chest.

“You need to breathe,” Tony said, looking torn. “You ripped out your IV and we can’t give you anything to help you calm down unless you let us -“

“No drugs,” Peter yelled. “Nothing inside me!” His hands shook, and he pressed further into the corner.

“Okay, no drugs,” Tony said, holding his arms up. “No drugs. I’m gonna come over there, all right?”

“Tony?” Nat asked.

“He needs someone more than I need my ribs not broken,” Tony said, creeping towards him slowly.

Peter kept sucking in quick breaths, and his eyes lost focus again. His arms found the walls, and he looked like he needed support.

Just as Tony was about to grab him, Peter’s eyes found him again and his arms jerked up. Tony jumped back before he could be thrown.

 _Fuck_ , Tony thought. _Fuck_. Where was his mind at? What was going on in there? Is he okay?

“Why am I here?” Peter demanded shakily, now staring at him.

Before Tony could answer, Peter’s knees buckled.

“Sit down and we can talk,” Tony said, “All right? You’re about to fall over.”

Peter blinked and slid down the wall. He trembled, then fell in a heap.

“Peter!” Tony said, collapsing next to him. Tony quickly checked his vitals, but he was all right.

“I think you need to issue a no-touching Peter rule,” Natasha said.

Tony swallowed. “That would be good,” he said thickly. For Peter to react that strongly to contact meant nothing good.

When he went to pick Peter up off the ground, he found his hands and feet stuck to the ground.

“He probably doesn’t feel safe,” Natasha said, now kneeling beside him.

He didn’t need Natasha to tell him. But he couldn’t handle the truth, even just the thought sitting in his stomach like stones.

“I guess he’s staying here then,” Tony said. “His hands can stick with the force of ten tons.”

“They’ll probably unstick as he falls deeper into unconsciousness,” a nurse said. “We’ll get him off of that floor soon enough.”

* * *

 

**Tony Stark**

They’d gotten Peter back into the bed. May had come over later in the day, and they’d showed her hospital room footage of the incident. From that moment, May banned Tony from the room and resolved to stay there herself instead, thinking that someone who hadn’t gotten him in life-threatening battles and betrayed him would be a more welcome face.

It made him feel like he’d been run over by a truck, but Tony had to agree. When May demanded he compensate her for the unpaid time off, of course Tony agreed to, without thought.

Tony posted up in the conference room across from Peter’s room, in any case.

* * *

 

**Michelle Jones**

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Tony Stark said, “But if you’re gonna come visit him, you need to know.”

“Need to know what?” She said crossly. Ned and MJ had finally been allowed to see him (after a month of him being gone and a month of him being holed up in a hospital) and Tony Stark was playing cloak and dagger.

He rubbed his face. “He was possessed by some kind of alien thing. We don’t know what, or why. Since he’s gotten back, he’s only woken up once, and we weren’t sure…”

“If he was insane or not,” MJ said shortly. She’d seen a lot of alien movies and watched the news, and she was pissed with Tony Stark’s game. She wanted to get in that room and see for herself.

Tony swallowed roughly. “Yeah. So don’t touch him at all, no matter how much you want to hold his hand. And if he wakes up, move slowly, talk loudly, the whole nine.”

Ned nodded. “You can trust us, Mr. Stark,” he said eagerly. “Peter’s our best friend, we would never do anything to hurt him.”

Despite himself, Tony had a high opinion of this friend of Peter’s. He had the same kind of open, caring attitude that Peter did.

* * *

 

**Peter Parker**

Peter heard voices.

Specifically, he heard Ned’s voice. And Ned wasn’t talking to him, Ned was talking to someone that wasn’t Peter about decathlon and his death-defying stunt climbing the Washington monument.

The person he heard reply was MJ.

Peter’s heart plummeted. _What was going on? First Tony kicks him out, then he wakes up in a hospital, and now Ned is telling MJ the truth?_

Distantly, he noticed his heart rate monitor beeping fast again.

“It’s okay, Peter,” Ned said calmly. “It’s just us, all right?”

“It’s just us,” he heard Aunt May say.

That’s good. Ned and MJ and May. His chest loosened, and the heart rate monitor came back down.

Peter blinked tiredly, and opened his eyes.

For a moment, no one noticed. May was reading a magazine and smiling, listening to Ned and MJ. They were playing video games at some kind of gaming laptop, one he knew was wildly expensive and that none of them could ever afford.

Judging by the Stark Industries logos on the wall, he assumed Tony had something to do with it. Why would Tony be buying Ned a gaming laptop? He felt dizzy, confused.

“Peter!” Ned said. “You’re awake!”

Peter looked at Ned. Everyone was dead silent. Everyone was acting strange. Why were they looking at him like that?

“They, uh, told us we had to be careful when you woke up,” Ned said lamely. “Said you could be, like, really messed up.”

MJ smacked him. “You can’t just _say_ that.”

Peter just stared at them. _Ned and MJ and May are here_. _Oh my God, they’re here, they’re here, -_

-suddenly he remembered a wet cold floor, _alone, lying there in the dirt -_

“Can I come over there?” Ned asked, approaching slowly but casually.

Peter reached a shaking hand up. He wanted to touch Ned, make sure he was _really_ here.

All Peter could remember was a cold, slimy feeling in his body, choking him.

Ned put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter grabbed Ned, getting a fistful of the old cotton Star Trek shirt he was wearing. He was warm, and he could feel Ned’s beating heart through his skin.

Suddenly, Ned’s arms were wrapped around him.

For a moment, Peter couldn’t do anything. Ned was warm and real and _here_.

“We were so worried,” Ned said. “But you’re here now, so it’s okay.”

Ned made to pull away, but Peter sat up, wrapped his arms around Ned and _held on_.

Ned didn’t say anything, just felt his hand patting his back. His hand was warm and solid and rhythmic.

Peter buried his head in Ned’s shoulder. All he knew was that he was so cold and scared and alone and now he was in a warm bed and his best friend was right here and he was finally _safe_.

A thin noise erupted from him, a long quiet cry as he slammed his eyes shut and tipped his head into Ned’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Ned said faintly, “But you’re holding on a bit too tightly, Peter.”

Peter worked to loosen his grip but he didn’t let go, didn’t bring his head up. He wanted to hide here for a little bit longer, even if he hadn’t cried in Ned’s arms like this since he was little and his parents died. He didn’t have the pride anymore to care. _Ned’s here._

He didn’t remember why that was important. He didn’t remember much. He remembered pain, he remembered being alone, _so alone, so alone -_

Ned didn’t mind, didn’t say one thing about it like Tony Stark would or stare at him with big worried eyes like MJ. Ned just got up and offered him the comfort he needed and the space he needed like it was just the thing to do.

Eventually, Peter untangled his stiff limbs and mostly freed Ned, leaving his hand stuck to his shoulder. Ned acquiesced, and stayed sitting on the bed.

“Look, May and MJ are here too,” Ned said.

He could hear their voices outside the room. The walls were double sided mirrors, and from this side he could see them standing in the hall. They must have walked out there, they were in here before.

With Tony Stark. They were standing there with Tony Stark.

_Iron Man, holding him down, yelling at his face. The cold monster writhing in his chest._

Peter’s heart rate monitor started beeping again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ned said. If there was anyone in the world who could read him, it was Ned. “He’s not here to yell at you or anything. He’s been asking about you every day, coming by all the time. He’s worried about you.”

Peter licked his dry lips. His chest shook deep inside.

“Wh-what happened?” Peter asked shakily.

“Well… I don’t know,” Ned admitted. “You were missing a while, and you’ve been here a while. MJ and I have been visiting for a week or two.”

Peter watched them talking in the hall. Tony was speaking animatedly to them.

“I could get up and grab them, May and MJ, I mean, but you have to let go of me,” Ned said, patting Peter’s hand still stuck to his shirt.

Peter blinked, and let go of Ned. The moment he lost contact, he felt colder.

As Ned walked to the door to call both of them in, Peter sat shakily on the edge of the bed. He could see the four of them talking.

“Let me in,” Peter heard Tony’s urgent voice.

Ned’s voice was firm. “No, Mr. Stark, I really don’t think you should come in -“ But Tony didn’t care and pushed right past him into the room.

Peter jerked up, standing, instinctively bringing an arm up. Tony said _Get Out_ and that image, _Iron Man, holding him down, the pain -_

“I really think you should go, Mr. Stark,” Ned politely insisted.

Tony didn’t seem like he heard Ned at all. “Kid -“

Peter wanted to yell at him, tell him to _go away_ , but he couldn’t. Last time he’d yelled at Tony, he’d been kicked off the Avengers.

He didn’t want to yell at Mr. Stark, anyways, he just wanted Mr. Stark not to hate him.

“Look at him!” MJ said, gesturing to Peter. “He’s obviously scared, but like always, he won’t just come out and say it. So I gotta say it. Get out, you’re scaring him.”

Tony looked between Peter, and her, and Peter again.

She was right. He was scared. He didn’t know what he was scared of, all he could remember was the cold slimy feeling of dread, of Tony yelling at him through a suit of vibranium to _fight_.

“Hey,” Ned said, walking over again. “It’s all right, okay? We’re just talking.” He walked over and put his hand on Peter’s arm. He uncoiled, dropping his own.

“What is he, the Peter-Whisperer?” Tony asked.

May smiled. “Yes, that’s exactly what he is.”

It didn’t occur to Peter to take offense. Right now, that’s what he needed. He was tired and confused and couldn’t forget the cold feeling in his chest, and the last thing he could remember was Tony’s suit escorting him out and leaving him at the side of the road.

“Mr. Stark, please,” Ned insisted again.

He just woke up and everything was _wrong_. His _body_ was wrong, his body was cold and foreign, he was strong but he felt like a stranger, couldn’t get his legs to move underneath him like he used to, like he was riding his bike but someone adjusted the seat and the pedals and he couldn’t quite find his balance.

“Okay,” Tony said quietly. “Okay. I’ll be back later, kid.” Then he disappeared.

Peter fell backwards onto the bed.

“He can’t keep his nose out of shit,” MJ snarked. Peter could swear he saw a ghost of a smirk on May’s lips.

Peter looked at his Aunt May. She was alive, and here, and smirking at MJ in a hospital room in the Avengers compound.

He didn’t know how or why but he knew he fucked up big time somehow and now they were all here and clearly he put them through something and it was _all his fault_.

Crushing shame filled his chest. His breaths started to get shallow.

“Ned, dear, you better move so that when I come in for the hug he’s not crowded,” May said gently, getting up.

Ned backed up and suddenly Peter’s vision was filled with May.

A sob choked out of Peter.

May wrapped her arms around Peter and Peter grabbed on and started crying, heaving sobs, he didn’t know what was going on and he couldn’t think straight and he didn’t remember anything and MJ wasn’t supposed to know and his legs didn’t feel like they belonged to him and the words got caught in his throat and all he could do was hold on to May and hope she wouldn’t let go.

“There you go,” May said, rubbing his back. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS NOT COMPLETE! I’m going to edit and finish this part sometime.

**Author's Note:**

> I write original fiction and nonfiction too! Take a look. (http://eepurl.com/dfSrvL).


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